Future of the Past
by ailaxolotl
Summary: With the war nearing its end, the Golden Trio, along with Ginny, Luna, and Draco are sent back to 1944 to prevent the future from happening. FULL SUMMARY ON MY PAGE.
1. Two things

**A/N**: Okay, so here we go! My first story! I decided to try a HG/TR...Not altogether uncommon, but still not quite as widespread as, say, Dramione stories. Please let me know if you like it! I prefer nice reviews, but I'll take constructive criticism!

**Disclaimer: **As much as I'd loooooove it, I'm not as amazing as J. K. Rowling. The characters and places and just about everything except the plot are all hers.

And with that, here we go...

**July 30, 1998**

Hermione was upset.

Though the weather was blissful and it was windless, blue sky kind of day; though she had gotten plenty of sleep; and even though her hair was actually being more manageable than normal, Hermione couldn't help biting on her fingernails, a habit she had been desperately trying to lose since she was fourteen. Two things were lying heavily on her mind; two impossibly stupid things that were going to ruin her day. Two things that had been on her mind all summer; two things that had driven her to the point of screaming into her pillow now and then. How was it that those two small, simple facts of life had turned her insides out? How had Hermione ignored them for a month? Not once in her life had Hermione procrastinated so much, especially over things as petty as this. Instead, she had let them grow and spread through the back of her mind as she forced herself to ignore them. Why was she acting like this?

_Stupid nerves,_ Hermione crossly thought to herself. If she wished to solve her first problem in time, she needed to hurry. It was going to be a dreadfully long day. Her first problem was one so simple and obvious that Hermione had to resist the urge to slap herself for being so stupid about it. And the second was deeply in contrast, though there was really not much she could do about it.

Her first problem: she had yet to find Harry Potter a birthday present. Normally it wouldn't have been a problem, but this _was_ his eighteenth birthday, after all. While it was true that wizards became legal adults at the age of seventeen, part of Hermione still held onto Muggle standards. Hermione couldn't help but let out a half-smile at that. Despite her wonderful seven years at Hogwarts that had now come to a close, a small, fading part of her soul longed for her Muggle life before she had gotten the letter that changed everything; her simple life, with its treats and smiles, her petty problems that were always solved with a lollipop and a talk with her parents, her dear friends with whom she no longer talked to, those small crushes on the popular boys at school, and especially, above anything else, her loving, happy, beautiful parents who had been murdered by Bellatrix Lestrange less than three months ago. Just thinking about it brought stinging tears to Hermione's eyes, and she had to stop her thought process to prevent the wetness from spilling over, as they had so many times before. Now was not the time to submit to her emotions. Hermione leapt off her bed in a swift movement and walked to her shelf, searching...searching...searching, until her eyes finally fell upon her worn, dirty, and altogether beaten up copy of _Hogwarts: A History_. Hermione could not help letting a wobbly, crooked smile appear on her face as she looked down at this book that was her escape. The temptation to sit down and read until her worries melted away crawled through her body, but Hermione only sighed and placed it back in her mahogany shelf that was already crammed with books.

Her second problem her been a terror for a month and then some. It was on the mind of everyone, really, and Hermione was well aware of that fact, but it seemed to be hitting her the hardest, save for a few unfortunate souls. If only..._if only,_ Hermione thought to herself. There seemed to be a lot of 'if only's in her life right now. If only it had never happened. If only they were quicker. If only Harry had succeeded. If only...

If only Lord Voldemort was dead. Hermione shook her head, trying to let logic rule. _There's simply nothing you can do about it at the time._ But still...though Harry, Ron, and she had managed to find and destroy all the Horcruxes, Voldemort himself had still survived, and there were sure to be at least twenty new Horcruxes keeping Voldemort safe. _You can't change what has and is happening, Hermione. He's alive. Harry's alive. You're alive. That's what matters right now._ Hermione knew the voice of reason was right, but all the while...Hermione began to wonder about her mental stability when the voice snapped at her, _Hurry up! There isn't much daylight left and you _need_ to get Harry a gift!_

Hermione only sighed again before looking around her room as she put on proper clothes for Diagon Alley. After her parents' deaths, Hermione had rented a Muggle apartment room a few blocks away from Diagon. It was a decent place, though Hermione could live without the loud, obnoxious neighbors. She had restrained from magicking the place for fear of being caught by the overrun Ministry. Most wizards seemed to have slunk into the shadows after Harry's defeat, rarely using magic at all. The Ministry was hunting down every single living being with the slightest trace of magic on their shoulders with a brutal vengeance, and many families had fled from Europe in hope of escape from the tyranny that was Lord Voldemort, including her own. But alas, it had been too late...Hermione had been on Voldemort's death list for a while, if only because she was so close to Harry. She was frozen in her steps as the horrible memories of that night swept briefly through her mind, though they seemed to last an eternity.

_Fire. Fire everywhere. A blinding light flashed through Hermione's eyelids, electric green. Hermione screamed. It wasn't fair, the fight had seemed to be leaning in her favor, when all of a sudden—Bellatrix had shrieked, "LEGILIMENS!" And though Hermione struggled desperately to calm her racing mind, Bellatrix caught sight of a memory of her parents, and in a flash, she was gone. Hermione Disapparated immediately after the spell was lifted, knowing where Lestrange was going. She landed a street down from her house, and she already knew it was too late. Hermione ran, ran as if her life depended on it, while it was really her parents' lives that were at stake. She bowled through a partially open window, breaking it and sending large fragments of glass everywhere, deeply scraping her left arm as she flew through the small space. An agonized yelp of pain escaped Hermione's lips before she was off again, running through the large house, following the sound of Lestrange's loud, evil cackle. The tears were burning in her eyes; her heart was thudding in her chest, her legs screamed in protest at how much Hermione was pushing them, and the sobs were already wracking through her throat when she entered her own room. _

_There, lying next to each other as if they had fallen asleep, their eyes peacefully closed, were her parents. Dead, on the floor not two feet in front of her. Bellatrix was gone. She had lit the house; Hermione could smell the smoke beginning to slither through the house, just like the filthy Slytherin snake where Bellatrix had come from, but Hermione couldn't leave her parents. She collapsed onto her knees, sitting on the floor beside them. Hermione clasped her mother's hand in her own, and it was cold—ice cold. Dead cold. Hermione couldn't take anymore, she wished for death, a lump was forming in her throat and coughs began to shake her to the core. But she sat there, crying, just crying, words failing her, her mind in rejection at the thought—no, the fact—that her parents, her loving, caring, Muggle parents were dead. Gone! Forever. Hermione never knew how she got out of that wretched building, the one she never wanted to see again._

Hermione shuddered. This was not good; she had spent the better part of those three months trying o forget, trying to move on. But it was impossible. Those memories were just as sharp, just as fresh, just as painful, as the night they had made their appearance on the world. It was a funny idea, Hermione thought to herself. _That memories aren't just in our head, but real things that choose to come to us, choose to make themselves known. Entire lives, entire generations could be different if a memory chose to not show itself._ Hermione shook her head absentmindedly, sending a few strands of her curly mass of brown hair into her face. Suddenly, Hermione grinned—one of the first true smiles she had had since her parent's death. She knew, she finally knew, what to get Harry.

Strange, how the thought of finally accomplishing something somewhat useful had made her day.

**A/N:** Ok, so no romance yet—I'm still setting the scene—but I'll get there, I promise! Please have patience while I slowly work myself there! Please, _please_, PLEASE review! Tell me what you like, you don't like, and where this should go!


	2. The Gift

**A/N:** Thank you, THANK YOU for the reviews Miss Objection, Smithback, 'emm14, ClaireReno, and edwardloverr!! And also thanks for the story alerts edwardloverr, mpwakefield, Smithback, and Miss Objection!! It really means a LOT to me! :") This chapter is STILL too short for my liking, but I guess I'm just gonna have to put my big girl panties on and deal with it. Unfortunately, I don't think Riddle is going to show before the 4th or 5th chapter!! I'm sorry! I still have to send them back 50 years . any ideas on that, maybe? I'm still unsure about how to get them there...Yeah, I have no clue, really. Please leave a comment to help me out!

**Disclaimer: **As much as I'd loooooove it, I'm not as amazing as J. K. Rowling. The characters and places and just about everything except the plot are all hers.

So, here we go, back to Hermione...

**July 30, 1998**

Hermione left her small apartment (Was it really an apartment? Hermione had never quite understood the difference between that, a condo, and a hotel) in a rush with a broad beam on her face, ignoring the friendly calls of her neighbors._ Imagine if they knew,_ Hermione absentmindedly thought to herself, _Imagine if they knew._

_What a world that would be._

_-----_

Hermione took the stairs down two at a time, desperately trying to swim through the mass of people that had congregated at the first floor. She heard loud laughs and calls of birthday wishes, but never stopped her frantic pace. A few partiers gave her nasty looks and muttered under their breath forlornly, but Hermione paid them no attention as well.

The buildings flashed by in a dull, grey blur as Hermione raced towards Diagon Alley. Why she was in such a rush, Hermione had no clue, but something in the back of her head was not allowing her to procrastinate anymore. She had put off Harry's birthday gift for weeks, and there was no one to blame except for herself.

Hermione shook her head in frustration for what seemed to be the millionth time today before walking into the dull, dusty bar that was the Leaky Cauldron. Hermione merely stood in the empty area in front of the door, not bothering to close it, taking in all the familiar aromas. So much of her time, she had spent here. So many memories, both good and bad, were resonating in her head like the gentle breeze caressing her face at that moment. Thoughts of sneaking over to the bar and asking Tom for a butterbeer gnawed at Hermione's mind, but there was no time, after all. _At this point, even a firewhiskey wouldn't do anything for my nerves,_ Hermione thought to herself with a sly grin.

-----

As Hermione meandered through the many alleyways of Diagon Alley, Hermione noted the changes in the mood of many of the wizards and witches who frequented the area. They were smiling and laughing, almost as if Voldemort had indeed been killed. But the shops still gave proof to the dreadful fact; many of them were boarded up, with only empty walls showing through the windows.

Hermione shivered and wrapped her arms around herself; it was exceptionally chilly for July, and her form-fitting light blue t-shirt, along with cream shorts and sandals, did her no better.

After a few moments of near silence, Hermione heard her name being called from an extremely familiar voice, and she whisked around to see Luna Lovegood smiling at her serenely. "Having a nice day, Luna?" Hermione called, impatiently brushing her curly locks from her face as the wind tickled at her chin playfully.

"Oh, not bad, really," Luna smiled. "You haven't seen any Wrackspurts floating around, have you? They seem to be following me, I simply _can not_ focus on this article!" Hermione desperately held in her giggles as Luna, unaware as always, swatted the air with her _Quibbler_ magazine.

As the two walked in separate directions, Hermione couldn't help but feel a flicker of worry begin to bud in her stomach. Luna was perfectly capable of taking care of herself; she had proven that fantastically in her fourth year, but all the while...walking around Diagon Alley alone was unsafe, even for Hermione.

This was why her wand was in her hand at this very moment, plain in sight for anyone who wasn't...looking for safety first. As if it was much of a problem for herself; a year of DA training, along with never-ending hours of studying spells had toughened Hermione; she could take care of herself just fine. Most of the time, at least...

Finally, Hermione's near hopeless wanderings came to an end as she found her shop of choice. She had never figured out the name of it; their emblem was a ridiculously curvy, to the point of being unreadable, and no one really ever mentioned it, but Hermione had come to guess it was called something along the lines of 'Blue Paperback'. It was a small, out of sight sort of place, not very noticeable at all next to towering Gringotts. It mainly sold books, endless and endless quantities of books, but their selection of other objects was amazing, and Hermione enjoyed coming here to search for a quick read, along with many other things.

Hermione made a slight detour to Gringotts before entering, thinking hard as she and a goblin whose name she did not know traveled through the dark cave to her small stash of money. She had been saving money all throughout her seven years of being a witch, and there was now a decent heap of Galleons, Sickles, and Knuts in her space. Hermione grabbed a few Galleons, as well as a multitude of Sickles, and shoved them in her pocket before entering the small, cramped cart before shooting off again. Hermione tried to keep in the little food she had ate as the turns progressively became more and more sharp, fearing that today might have been the day she would be sent careening into the walls around her.

-----

Hermione delicately pressed open the fragile door, all to well remembering the time she had accidentally knocked the door out of place by pushing too hard, too fast. A small tinkling noise echoed throughout the shop, as Hermione knew it would. She delightedly breathed in the musty smells of the Blue Paperback, looking around her favorite shop. Immediately her mind wandered to the back aisles, where an almost invisible door lay, and beyond that were columns of books on every topic...

Hermione subtly kicked herself in the calf, wincing as her tender skin slowly began to bruise. _Focus!_ What was wrong with her today?

Hermione casually strolled over to the few aisles labeled as _Memories_, and she couldn't hold back a small smile as she looked thoughtfully over the items for sale. Normally there were only a few options, and most of them were rather sob-story gifts instead of ones wishing a long life.

For a few minutes the only thing Hermione found in the small, cramped space was a growing frustration with her still empty hands. After what seemed to be an eternity, Hermione finally had to admit defeat. She walked away, dejected.

Until bright, flashy tag caught Hermione's eye, just as her hand had reached the doorknob. She practically jumped over three aisles to find a pure white sphere, neatly placed in a glass box, with a blinking sticker stuck on the front, labeling it as _Memory Mist: ANY Memory, ANY Time, ANY where! _Hermione smiled as she read through the rest of the sticker, the smile only widening as she grabbed the box and held it firmly in her hand. She forced herself to walk at a normal place as she moved down a half aisle and looked for wrapping paper. There were all sorts; ones that glowed in the dark, ones that flashed different colors, ones that shouted at you if you tore them open too slowly or too fast...

Hermione finally gave up and picked out a simple one, deep blue with white stripes that varied in thickness. She held her two items tight and hurried over to the counter. As he asked for payment, Hermione's eyes drifted to the window; the sun was setting and a blood red streak had painted itself across the sky, accompanied by purples and oranges. Hermione pulled her gaze from the sky to Gringotts. It really was a magnificent building, very simple looking; the slight tinge of cream clinging to the pure white bricks, not a single stain marring the walls. The cashier asked for payment again, but Hermione ignored him, her eyes drawn to a certain part of the wall. It was relatively unnoticeable, amongst the large groups of people, but if you looked carefully enough...

Yet, Hermione hardly noticed as the impatient wizard running the store demanded five Galleons and six Sickles for the third time; barely turned her head to him as his voice began to grow louder and louder until he was flat out yelling at Hermione, convinced she must have been deaf; just only was aware that he was grasping her arm, shaking her roughly, because she had seen the strangest thing.

It almost looked like..._no, Hermione, you're hallucinating! Just ignore it!_ But she couldn't. It was something that was just simply impossible to keep your attention from. Like a car accident; you know you should stop looking, but you can't, because you feel you need to know what happened, need to know if everyone had survived, need to know when the ambulance was coming. It was so uncommon, so alien; it drew Hermione's eyes like a magnet.

After all, it wasn't every day you saw Albus Dumbledore leaning against a wall of Gringotts, staring right at you.

Without so much as a second glance at the cashier, Hermione dumped all of the money in her pockets onto the counter, saying tersely, "Keep it," before taking the sphere and wrapping paper and running out the small door, the bells tinkling ominously at her as she left.

Hermione ran, shouting Dumbledore's name the whole time. As she approached Gringotts, though, a huge wave of cackling witches blocked her way, seeming to make a wall of bodies that was impossible to penetrate. She pushed and even threatened to bewitch them at one point, but they never listened; only shooting Hermione killer looks of rage. Hermione desperately shoved through them, sensing an extreme urgency in the air, as if something important was going to happen right there, right then. Eventually they moved out of the way, grumbling about insensible youths, and Hermione ran past them, not listening as they shouted after her. But when she came to the exact spot where Albus Dumbledore had been resting, there was nothing left but the plain white wall.

He had vanished, without a single trace. _Of course,_ Hermione's logical voice came into play, _you could have just been imagining. When's the last time you ate anything more than a chocolate frog? You've been starving yourself. It was nothing, nothing at all. Stop worrying about it. You need to eat something; you haven't eaten much recently at all. _These thoughts repeated themselves in a tirade, never stopping, never quieting...

It must have been a hallucination. There was no other explanation; Hermione was hungry, tense, and above all, tired. After all...

Dumbledore had been dead for two years.

-----

It was getting late, and Hermione was still baffled by what she had seen. Was it merely a trick of the light? Or was she truly going insane? Hermione had given up on thinking she had seen the real Dumbledore; last she saw, he was happily rotting away in a marble tombstone not far from Hogwarts castle.

_Bother,_ Hermione thought to herself. Her eyes were already caked with sleep, and gravity seemed to come down on her limbs and eyelids with a vengeance. Hermione looked to her baby-blue clock. She had gotten it for her eighth birthday, and it still worked, so Hermione had no guilt in keeping one of the few items that had survived the fire. The clock showed a bright, beaming 11:30 at night. Hermione knew that sleep would be the best thing for her, but she was restless. Hermione had been pacing her room, trying to make sense of her hallucination, but when an hour passed and she drew up a blank, Hermione gave in and stormed out of her room.

Now Hermione was in her small living room, a bowl of popcorn in her lap as she flipped channels aimlessly. She aimlessly threw a piece of popcorn straight up into the air, just barely missing as it bounced off her cheek and landed next to her on the couch. Hermione popped it into her mouth, reaching for another as her eyes were drawn to the television. It seemed to be a soap opera. Hermione had never really cared for them, but there was nothing else all that good on anyway, so she contentedly leaned back in her couch, watching with listless eyes as people walked across the screen, babbling on about their life's struggles.

Hermione dimly noticed a blackness spreading across her vision, then disappearing as she snapped her eyes back open. But it slunk back, ever waiting, ever listening...until Hermione succumbed to the exhaustion pumping through her veins. The couch was so soft, so inviting...it seemed to close in behind her in a warm embrace, pulling her in, tempting her eyes, gravity going against her wishes again. The television was still on, sending bright light into Hermione's eyes. It hurt...Hermione couldn't think straight, the arms of sleep were strong on her shoulders, pulling her down, into a relaxing sleep that sounded so good at that moment...

Her eyes closed shut with a tired defiance, and the bowl fell to the floor, sending the remaining kernels scattering across the carpeted floor as Hermione tilted to the side and collapsed onto the couch, shadows of electric blue eyes dancing the tips of her eyelids.

**July 31, 1998**

A loud crash echoed through Hermione's head, sending her to the floor as she rolled off the couch, screaming in terror all the while. Hermione's eyes darted across the small space, looking for any telltale signs of unwanted visitors. After a few moments of silence, Hermione stiffly sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her whole body was aching terribly, and when she tried to stand up, a powerful wave of dizziness threw her back to the ground again.

Hermione merely stayed there, on her hands and knees, until the world around her stopped spinning and her mind came into a relative focus. "_Owww..._" Hermione moaned, clutching her head. It had begun to throb, each pulse sending a wave of pain down her body, sending everything into an electric haze of pain.

Hermione slowly reached for her wand, grasping it from the coffee table she had knocked her elbow on, and murmured a spell to alleviate the pain pulsing through her core. She sighed in relief as a bliss state of numbness coursed through her body. About a half hour passed when the spell wore off, and it left Hermione in a state of tranquility. Good Lord, what was wrong with her? Hermione just barely staggered into the kitchen to make her coffee, and successfully knocked her hip into the island as she walked. For a minute all Hermione could do was bend over, tightly grab her hip, and let out a low stream of curses.

As Hermione finally stopped wheezing in pain, and the white hot pain had lessened into a dull ache, another loud noise echoed through her house. Hermione could have slapped herself; had she really freaked out over some thunder?

Sure enough, as Hermione poked her head through the curtains and looked out the window, there was a dense layer of mist on the ground and rain clattered to the floor. Every now and then, the sky would flash white as lightning brought its fury to the earth, and thunder would make the earth tremble in its wake. Hermione sighed contentedly, staring out of her window, hardly flinching whenever a loud boom traveled across the sky or a flash of lightning lit up the heavens. She had always loved rainy days; the smell that lingered in the air all day, the cool relief the water provided, the way it soaked through even her thick hair, jumping into all the puddles, big or small, hearing the droplets scatter across the cobblestones and jump up her leg, , even the muggy air; it all lifted her heart.

A wide smile stretched across Hermione's face, and she ran to her room. She quickly undressed and showered, hardly noticing as the burning hot water scalded her skin. Hermione tripped in her haste, surely bruising her arm as it made harsh contact with her bathroom shelf, but she quickly shot back up again and rushed to her small closet.

Without hardly thinking or looking, Hermione grabbed a pair of dark, skinny jeans and pulled them on hurriedly, praying that the rain would last. She more carefully sorted through her shirts that she had obsessively sorted by color, and picked a simple black shirt that hugged her curves nicely. As she pulled her shirt on, another flash of blinding light came through her windows, and Hermione jumped in surprise. Even now, that flash of light reminded her of the burning fire that had destroyed all she loved.

But time passed and Hermione was desperate to get that watery tang in her mouth, the flavor she had desired for so long. So she grabbed her raincoat and purse, quickly putting on brown flats and pushing her hair back with a turquoise headband. Hermione grabbed Harry's gift and wrapped it in the paper she had bought, and then placed it in her purse; the same one which she had used an Undetectable Extension Charm on. Not bothering to grab an umbrella, Hermione put her wand in the large pocket her raincoat provided and wrenched the door open, rushing outside into the misty air.

It was all but abandoned outside; the weather had driven most people indoors to their warm, inviting fireplaces. But not Hermione; she was gladly traipsing through the streets, laughing as she inhaled the salty air, sticking her tongue out and enjoying the feel of fresh raindrops on her face. Hermione stuck her arms out and spun; just spun, until there was nothing left in Hermione's head but the echoing laughs that she hadn't experienced in so long.

When Hermione stopped spinning, the ground took her place and rapidly tilted from side to side, sending Hermione stumbling in every which direction. She looked like a drunk, she was sure, but a happy indifference shielded Hermione's mind from the stares of the few who were also outside. This was her element, her state of calm, nothing but the moving floor underneath her and the happily crying sky above.

After several minutes, the world slowed its spinning and Hermione could walk straight.

By which point, she had passed the Leaky Cauldron and had to backtrack a block or so until she reached the pub. Hermione made a beeline to the courtyard, ignoring the calls of a few drunken wizards about her age. Three times with her wand, she tapped the brick three up and two across from the old trash can, and watched as a hole grew, expanding and opening up the archway to Diagon Alley. Of course, Hermione could have Dissapparated in her own room; her Muggle neighbors would have passed it off as more thunder. But she felt more secure transporting herself in a strictly wizard area, and besides, it had been _raining_ outside.

Hermione calmly walked through the regular bustle of people, saying hello to those she knew, avoiding the gaze of those she didn't. It felt nice to not be rushed; Hermione was glad she had done her shopping yesterday. If she hadn't, she would have been racing through the streets now, panic clogging her throat and pushing her forward. Hermione almost smiled at the image in her head.

As Hermione walked, she found herself inexplicably drawn to Gringotts, to exactly where she had 'seen' her previous headmaster. Hermione leaned against the wall, very much in the same position Dumbledore had been in; both legs at an angle, holding her weight as she leaned against the wall, placing her hands in her pockets. She concentrated, standing up now, and with a final burst of determination, Dissapparated into thin air, leaving nothing behind but a loud _CRACK_ that was masked by voices and thunder in the clouds.

-----

Hermione landed on her feet, looking around warily, making sure she hadn't messed up her destination. But sure enough, Hermione was at the gates of Godric's Hollow. The rain had yet to reach the area, and the cozy looking cottages stretched out in front of her like a familiar maze; still confusing at times, but you've come to know it so well that it provides much less of a challenge.

As Hermione walked through the winding lanes, she pulled out her wand cautiously. She was becoming paranoid, and she knew it, but Hermione had lived by 'better safe than sorry'. Several others seemed to be thinking the same way; though it was broad daylight, their wands were out and at their sides. The birthplace of Harry Potter still was under examination by Death Eaters.

Hermione turned her head, and there it was...the cemetery. So many memories in that one place...all horrifying. She shook her head, shoving the terrifying day from her head, and continued on.

As Hermione walked, she began to try and memorize the way she was walking. Right, left, straight, right...until a fairly small cottage was at her feet. Hermione jumped off the lane and onto the walkway leading to the front door. As she walked, Hermione double-checked her purse, as always, for Harry's gift. There it was, hand-wrapped and still in good condition. Hermione could have wrapped it with magic, but she liked the satisfaction she got from doing it on her own. She couldn't become _too_ dependent on magic, after all.

Hermione walked up the few steps to the front porch. It was a simple layout, with just enough space to put a rocker at the front. The door was mahogany, and a large oval of the wood had been replaced with a window that allowed the host to see who was outside, while the guest would just see a mirror. Hermione grabbed the brass knocker and tapped twice, wrapping her arms around herself as a fierce wind nearly blew her over.

After a few moments, Hermione could hear booming voices, an all too familiar laugh, and the drawl of a new friend. Then the door opened, and there was Harry, all smiles. "_Mione!_"

Hermione beamed back at him, taking in his warmth as she was enveloped in a bone-breaking hug. "I _missed_ you, you know," Harry whispered in her ear, the smile still on his face. Hermione felt a wave of guilt. Since her parents' deaths, Hermione had withdrawn from the world, not talking to anyone unless absolutely necessary, which it proved to not be.

"I missed you guys, too," Hermione mumbled as she buried her head into the crook of his neck, a small sniffle betraying her emotions. Harry just held her for a few moments, letting the moment last, until he let go, still holding her arms in his hands.

"How are things?" Harry asked, placing a kiss at the top of Hermione's head. He looked as if the sun had just lit up in his eyes; it was pouring out everywhere. Hermione couldn't help a smile. He had missed his girlfriend.

"It's alright!" Hermione didn't want to talk about the bad. She wanted to forget and move on, just focus on this one happy day.

"Well, come in, everyone else is here!" He led her in, his right hand at the small of her back, guiding her into his home.

Hermione had never visited Harry's house before. She had come to Godric's Hollow multiple times, looking for a home, but she chose not to visit Harry, not when they would be alone, to talk; talk about her parents, talk about the war, talk about _them_. But it really was a cozy house; the door opened up into a spacious living room with a fireplace that was empty, a large HD television, and a coffee table, with a few dark, leather couches surrounding it. On the right of the room was the kitchen, and from what she could see, the dining room. On the left, a single bedroom, with a door leading outside, probably to his backyard.

Hermione took in the smell of treacle tarts, probably fresh, and her mouth watered, begging for food she had denied it for so long. Harry must have seen the look on her face, and he laughed happily, guiding her to the kitchen. As they entered, Harry took his hand off her back and replaced the empty space in between his fingers with hers.

There they were, all talking, some laughing, others with cake and candies in their mouths. Hermione stood still as they all slowly took in her presence. She felt the weight of four eyes on her, and tried to ignore the way Harry's hand had clenched up on her own. Hermione squeezed his hand lightly, and the pressure dropped noticeably.

Ginny broke the ice. "Bloody hell, Hermione! You look like a sexy toothpick!" And then they were all laughing, the tension completely wiped away, and she was pulled into a massive group hug. They were all talking to her at once, the words blending into what would soon become a toothpick.

"OI!" Harry shouted loudly, and the whole house became quiet. "Give her some space, huh? She hasn't even _tried_ the cake!" But he was smiling, still smiling brightly, and no one took him all too seriously.

"What kind of cake is it?" Hermione asked, eager to eat something.

"Oh, you'll see!" Draco drawled, a sly grin growing on his face.

Though Hermione trusted Draco, there was still a hint of uncertainty when his name was brought up. In their sixth year, just after Dumbledore had been murdered, Draco had refused to flee with Snape. Instead he had chosen to stay at Hogwarts, helping those who had been injured, even putting out the fire on Hagrid's house. After that, he had unofficially become a member of the Order, sharing the information he had received while under Voldemort's reign. Draco didn't like to talk about it, though.

Immediately sensing trickery, Hermione put up her guard. "What did you do to it?"

"Lighten up, Mione! It's nothing, nothing at all!" A red flash of hair and multiple freckles gave away Ron's existence.

"_Mione_," Harry said, looking at her with sincere eyes, "I _promise_. This is a very ordinary cake."

Hermione stared into his eyes, brown meeting green, for a minute, then said slowly, "Alright, but I swear, if you've done anything to it—"

"Wow, Hermione, have you taken a class in paranoia lately?" Draco laughed. "Just eat the goddamn cake!"

Hermione flushed a deep pink, ducking her head down. Harry lifted her head up with his thumb, a paper plate with the light green cake in his other hand. "Just try the cake!" Ginny said, desperately trying to hold in her giggles. Hermione knew they were lying, that they _had_ done something to the cake, but curiosity was gnawing at her tongue, desperate to see the bit of magic.

"Just one bite," Hermione said softly, taking the plate in her hands. It _looked_ like a regular, Muggle cake, but suspicion ruled as Hermione reached for a fork. Everyone was watching her as if she was a flying pig at a circus.

Hermione shook her head. These were her _friends;_ they wouldn't do anything that bad to her! She needed to trust more and suspect less. Hermione took the fork in her hand and was just about to saw off a small piece when the cake rapidly grew and grew and _grew _until—SPLAT—the cake was pushed into her face by an all too familiar hand. _I'll be coming for you later_, Hermione thought to herself, as her friends roared with laughter. Hermione pulled the plate and some remains of the cake off her face and glared at her friends, trying extremely hard to keep in the laughs that were soaring through her chest. Even Luna was giggling softly. "_Guys_!" Hermione yelled, the chuckles finally escaping her lips until she felt she couldn't breathe. "No fair!"

"Sorry, hun, I couldn't stop them!" Ginny said, her face going a deep red as her eyes betrayed her words.

Hermione couldn't help but laugh. It was _funny_, her face covered in the pastel green icing, small crumbs of cake dripping from her chin. Hermione took a finger to her face and swiped off a large blob of icing, placing it in her mouth. "_Mmmm," _Hermione said, taking in the slight lemon tang. She laughed harder as Luna put a mirror to her face, a snort escaping her mouth.

Hermione felt as though she might faint. This moment was the best she had had in months; just her friends, no worries of intrusions or attacks, just the six of them, laughing wholeheartedly, living in the moment. "_Harry!_" Hermione said, drawing out his name, laughing the whole while.

"The bathroom's over there!" Harry said, still chuckling, pointing to his bedroom.

Hermione melodramatically stalked off, still laughing, until she reached his bathroom. She didn't bother to take in the details of the room, just put her purse on the counter and turned on the water. Thankfully, only a minimal amount got into her hair. As she began to scrub small bits of cake from her hair, a damp cloth was at her cheek, rhythmically moving in circles as it removed the icing. Hermione flinched back, but turned around to see Luna's face looking into hers, the smile half gone.

Hermione relaxed her shoulders and continued removing cake, along with Luna's help. There was silence for a few moments, until Luna said, "I thought it was a dirty trick."

Hermione was surprised for a moment. Luna didn't normally sound so serious, so...normal. "Oh, it's fine. It was funny, really," Hermione said, trying to return to the bliss state she had been in a few moments ago.

"Your hair was all pretty, though," Luna said, examining Hermione's now damp hair that was already starting to frizz up.

Hermione opened her mouth to speak, but she was cut off as Luna pulled her in for a tight hug. Shock and—was it pity?—crossed through Hermione's heart, but she wrapped her arms around Luna's small waist and said, "Luna, what's wrong?"

Luna's wide, grey eyes stared into Hermione's warmer brown before she said quietly, "We all really missed you."

Hermione couldn't help it, she was never good at sob stories, and she tried her hardest to hold in the pools welling up in her eyes as she said softly, "I missed you too. All of you."

Luna held her tightly for a moment more before picking up her damp cloth again and wiping the remains of the icing off Hermione's face. Hermione could see something in Luna's eyes, something she was keeping hidden. She knew something, Hermione could see it, but she didn't pursue the case.

After drying her face one last time, Hermione walked out of the bathroom with her arm hooked in Luna's. The party hadn't waited for them; they were all congregated in the living room and Harry was halfway through opening Ginny's gift—new Quidditch gloves—when he caught the two out of the corner of his eye. He seemed a little abashed about not putting off the gifts, but Harry quickly forgot his guilt when he opened Hermione's gift. "Wow, Mione, thanks!" Harry said, a broad grin on his face, and he took Hermione in for a hug. Harry kissed Hermione on the cheek, and loud jeers erupted from Ginny, Ron, and Draco, but they were cut short when a knock came from the door three times, brisk and impatient.

"Did you invite anyone else?" Draco asked Harry, his eyes not bothering to scan the front porch.

"No..." Harry trailed off before jumping off the couch and heading to the door. Hermione could hear a voice, but just only; the wind made it hard to hear anything.

After a few moments in which Harry seemed to be yelling at the guest, he invited the stranger inside in an effort to hear better.

Wait, not a stranger, not at all.

Professor McGonagall. In Muggle clothes, pulling off her gloves as she looked at the six with the strangest expression. "You're all here? Good. Come with me." And with that she walked outside of Harry's house, leaving the six to follow in her footsteps.

Hermione looked at the other five, confusion etched into every line in her face, but all they could do was shrug. They had no clue either. But something about McGonagall's face said this was urgent, very urgent, and so Hermione followed, catching up to Draco, her footsteps leaving light impressions on the snow that had began to fall in the misty twilight.

**A/N:** Ok, so no romance yet—again, I know!—I'm still setting the scene—but I'll get there! And yes, I know, I'm sorry, I don't think I'm physically capable of making a 20 page chapter like a lot of amazingly cool people on this website, but I'll try! . Please bear with me! And also, if you think of some really cool—or even not so cool, I don't mind—way to send the six back to 1944, please, _please, _PLEASE leave a comment with your idea!! ;")


	3. The Three Broomsticks

**Shout Out:** Thanks for the reviews Smithback, ClaireReno, and edwardloverr!

**A/N:** YESSSS~! I finally have a solid idea of how I'm going to send them back~! I think it's pretty original, but I could be wrong! :"D Thanks for the ideas, they got me a good deal further then I am now! I think I'll be able to send the six back by next chapter! Please keep reading!

**Disclaimer: **As much as I'd loooooove it, I'm not as amazing as J. K. Rowling. The characters and places and just about everything except the plot are all hers.

So, we left them following Professor M to who knows where...

**July 31, 1998**

Hermione shivered. This weather was surely a factor of Voldemort; it was never like this in the summer. The wind was bitterly cold and scratched her skin with sharp claws. McGonagall was leading them who knew where, without any direction as to where. Hermione couldn't take not knowing; the question was burning in her skin, itching at her fingertips.

Hermione jogged a little bit to catch up to the Professor. "Professor—"she was cut off as McGonagall whisked around sharply, her eagle eyes holding all six of the young witches and wizards.

"Now, I want you all to listen close and listen well," Professor McGonagall said, her mouth forming a very familiar line. "There isn't much time. You will Apparate to the Three Broomsticks. Wait there for me. Understood?"

The six looked amongst each other, then nodded. Any doubt they had once felt was eradicated by the mad gleam growing in McGonagall's eyes. "But Professor, you still haven't—"Ginny barely kept her temper from showing as she was interrupted by the professor.

"There isn't any _time_ right now! Hurry!" Professor McGonagall was now behind them, pushing Ron forward as he lagged behind.

"Hey—stop that—OI!" Ron shouted, his ears going red from both anger and cold. "Will you _stop_ that?"

But Professor McGonagall paid him no heed; she continued frantically shoving them to who knew where. It was as if Lord Voldemort himself were on their tails; Hermione wondered if she had been drinking of late. "_Go_, now! The Three Broomsticks! _Hurry!_"

Hermione cast one more doubtful look to Harry. She could see the confusion etched in his eyes as well, but he Disapparated with a loud _CRACK!_ and left Hermione with the others. Soon Draco Disapparated, along with Ron, who had Ginny in tow. Professor McGonagall was in hysterics, madly nudging Hermione and Luna. Hermione looked down at Luna for a moment, wondering why on earth she hadn't Disapparated, until Hermione remembered Luna wasn't in her seventh year yet. Was she still only sixteen? Impossible.

Hermione grabbed Luna's hand tight and Disapparated just as Professor McGonagall began to hit the two with her purse. She seemed to be in tears. Hermione shuddered slightly. _What on earth is going on?_

-----

Hermione took in a deep breath of cold air as the invisible walls surrounding her vanished. It was snowing in Hogsmeade. Strange; it wasn't normally like this during the summer. Hermione tilted her head slightly. A noise was echoing from the white sky, but the wind made it hard for Hermione to locate its source. She strained her ears, listening closely.

A cough, just to her left. Hermione turned her head and let her mouth drop in horror. There was Luna, doubly bent over, clutching Hermione's arm much too tight, coughing up what seemed to be—blood.

Hermione instantly tensed up and looked around suspiciously. "_Damn it!"_ Hermione screeched. As Professor McGonagall had begun to slap her, Hermione had lost focus near completely. Now she was who knew where, and it looked as if Luna had Splinched.

"Luna, Luna, I'm so _sorry_, "Hermione shouted over the powerful winds. Luna was pale; much more pale than normal, and her eyes were closed tight as another cough wracked through her body. But somehow Luna managed to nod ever so slightly as if to forgive Hermione. Hermione rummaged through her bag before cursing again and shouting, "_Accio Dittany!"_

A bottle came zooming into her hands and Hermione whisked it out of the purse without hesitation. Immediately she was over Luna, trying to see what had gone amiss. It was bad. Hermione couldn't see any exterior damage, but Luna was still coughing up globs of her own brownish-red blood. It was internal. "Luna," Hermione said, but she didn't seem to hear. "_Luna!_" Hermione shouted. Luna's gaze found her own. She was weak, very weak. Hermione trembled, but it wasn't due to the cold.

"Luna, I need you to drink some of this," Hermione said, pushing the small crystalline bottle into her hand, but Luna had bent over once again. The snow around both of their feet was a prominent red. "_LUNA!"_

Luna was rapidly changing colors from pale to a deep purple. She was coughing so bad that her airway had been cut off. No more blood was falling from her lips, but some had dried and was caked over her face, resembling something one would see in a horror movie. Luna slowly, lethargically, tried to uncap the bottle, but Hermione snatched it from her, knowing Luna's trembling; weak fingers would only slip on the surface.

Hermione uncorked the Dittany and grabbed Luna's jaw tightly. Luna sent her gaze to Hermione; the most wretchedly miserable face met Hermione's, full of fear, before Luna's mouth resolutely opened a fraction of an inch, her breath coming in short wheezes.

Hermione's breath went out in a relieved _whoosh_ as she dropped three small drops of Dittany into Luna's mouth. Almost instantly, Luna began to cough again, and Hermione fretfully waited for blood, but none came. The purple was fading from her face and her breaths were evening out. Hermione took Luna in her arms and held her close, determined to keep in whatever small amount of internal heat Luna had left. She rubbed Luna's back soothingly, the tension in her own fading away as Luna held her tight too. It seemed ages ago Luna had held her tight and told her that her hair looked pretty.

Hermione stroked Luna's hair softly, maternal instinct leading her actions. "Luna," Hermione said, her voice tight with emotion. "Are you okay?"

Luna was silent for a moment, but eventually her voice found her lips and she said quietly, "It's the strangest thing...did you see it, too?"

Hermione pulled away from her friend and looked her full in the face. This was either a good sign or a horrible prediction of how much Luna had suffered. "See what, Luna?"

Luna merely half-smiled, the familiar dreamy look slowly spreading across her face. "Oh, nothing. I know you don't like Crumple-Horned Snorkacks."

Hermione laughed; she couldn't help it, relief was pounding hard in her chest, fueling color into Hermione's cheeks. "Ahh, Luna, it's _cold_! Let's go find everyone else; I'm sure they're worried sick!"

Now it was Luna's turn to chuckle. "They'll all be so jealous of our little adventure!"

Hermione took Luna's hand in her own and concentrated like she had never before; she never wanted such an incident to happen again. She looked at Luna's face. Her cheeks were tinged with pink from the cold; the snow had been mercilessly falling down as Luna had been coughing, and now her blood was hardly visible underneath a fresh blanket of white flakes.

-----

Hermione and Luna arrived to the sound of wind. It was howling through the air with a brutal vengeance, cutting down its invisible enemies and shaking trees to their roots. The two were buffeted by a cold blast, followed by a wall of white.

The second sound was shouting. Someone was calling her name, followed by Luna's. Four people. Hermione twisted her head in every which direction, frantically looking for her friends. Luna was taller than Hermione by a good half inch, but she could tell the grey-eyed seventh year was having trouble seeing through the mass of snow.

"We're over here!" Luna called loudly, sending a jolt of pain through Hermione's left ear.

Hermione could distinctly hear a reply, but it was blurred by the wind. Was that a figure, not twenty feet away? Two figures? Now four? Hermione began to run, Luna's hand still in her own. She ran and ran, the snow and wind pulling her the other direction, feeling her feet go numb with cold each time they sunk into a collected pile of white. Luna was pulling Hermione now; her shoes were much more suited for the weather and her stride was much longer than that of Hermione.

But the never-ending downpour of snow was collecting on Hermione's head and her eyelashes were beginning to freeze over. Blinking her eyes rapidly, Hermione pulled out her wand and said quietly, "_Lumos,_" before looking up again. The spell didn't do much, but it was enough; Hermione loosened her grasp on Luna's hand and ran into Harry's open arms.

No words were exchanged between the two; only a muted embrace full of relief and passion. Harry let go first, but Hermione held onto him a moment longer before taking a step back and looking at Luna. She was dreamily looking at Ginny, who was attacking her with questions; where they had been, what had taken them so long, why she was so very, very pale... Hermione didn't think she could take any questions, so she kept her distance and instead stumbled over to Ron and Draco, her toes beyond numb. They were staring at her and Luna, a speculative gleam in their eyes.

"So," Draco said, his familiar drawl sending warmth through the tips of Hermione's freezing fingers, "I suppose I _should_ ask why you didn't show up with everyone else, but it might take away from the thrilling story I'm sure everyone wants to hear."

Hermione glared at him, disapproval pouring into her words as she replied, "Well, Draco, I know how much you _love_ moving tales, but I do believe Professor McGonagall wanted us all in the Three Broomsticks right about now."

Ron merely stood at Draco's side, his eyes flickering between the two, judging to see who would win this argument. Hermione was really only teasing, and she knew Draco was aware of this as he smirked at her and pulled her in for a warm hug. "You _really_ should consider taking a leaf from my book, Mione," Draco whispered in her ear, his head tilted down so Ron couldn't hear. "Everything's ten times more fun when you break the rules."

"I'll take your word for it," Hermione grinned and backed away, rubbing her arms.

Ron seemed to walk toward her, as if to envelop her as well, but Hermione took three steps back for every one he moved forward. "Oh no," Hermione said, a small smile obstinately tugging at her mouth. "No hugs for you!"

He frowned slightly, not understanding. _Typical, _Hermione thought to herself before saying, "_You_ shoved cake in my face, you prat!" Ron could only laugh.

"So," Luna said, her thoughts still seeming to be in the clouds, "Where is the Professor?"

"Oh," Harry said, biting his lip nervously. "Right, er...We should probably head over there now." Memories of Professor McGonagall's terse disapproval and steely eyes seemed to flash in his own as he spoke.

Hermione hooked her arm in Harry's as they walked on. All six of them were using _Lumos_, so a small area two feet in front of them could be seen. It still wasn't much. After a few minutes of productiveless wandering, Draco's patience ran short and he said edgily, "So, the Chosen One has snuck out of grounds who knows how many times for his absolutely _fabulous_ adventures, yet he is still unable to locate the pub he seems to spend _all_ his time in."

Hermione was just about to retaliate sharply over everyone's laughs when a whizzing sound shot past her ear and a cloud of snow exploded on the side of Draco's head. Hermione looked at Harry, her eyes widening at his broad grin, but his gaze was on Ginny. She was just now standing back up straight, her hands dusted in flakes. "I'd appreciate you kept your jaw shut, weasel," she said, a wide smirk giving way to the joy twinkling in her brown eyes as she referred to his old nickname.

In response, Draco dashed over to Ginny and swung her off her feet, cradling the redhead in his arms. "Where's the fun in that, love?" He questioned, a flirtatious grin crinkling his eyes. "I know you prefer a..._nonverbal_ relationship, but doesn't the very _sound _of my voice give you the warm fuzzies?" His forehead pressed against Ginny's, there lips almost meeting.

Ron intervened, saying sharply, "Cut it out, weasel, she's my sister."

Draco looked as if he couldn't care less, lightly kissing Ginny's eyelids before putting her down and taking her hand. "Just because you're the only single one here doesn't mean you have to be such a killjoy," he said, his eyes still glued on Ginny. Luna seemed to not notice this comment, in which he had blatantly had left her out.

Luna, actually, was engrossed in a conversation with Harry. Hermione had been to busy watching Draco and Ginny to notice. But when she focused her eyes and ears on the two, they exchanged an ominous look and became quite silent.

Hermione was miffed. She pestered Harry and Luna for information, but they only stayed mute and kept walking forward, leaving Hermione tracking after them, her suspicion and doubt fueling every step. She had finally caught up to the two when they arrived at the Broomsticks, and her efforts would just be a waste of time because the pub was so tightly packed and, above all, noisy.

"We should go find somewhere to sit," Ginny yelled over the cacophony. Five heads nodded their consent before heading to the back, where, mercifully, a table for eight was empty.

Harry ordered six butterbeers, ignoring the pointed glares from the Weasley siblings, and continued to discuss who knew what with Luna. Hermione frowned; the two seemed to have purposefully sat at the other end of the table, leaving Hermione with Ginny at her right and Ron at her left. Draco was sitting on the other side of Ginny. The two vacant seats on Ron's right side seemed exceptionally menacing to Hermione.

By the time the butterbeers arrived, Hermione was beyond unable to drink and merely pressed it to her face, sighing in content as it rapidly cooled her flushed face from the body heat of her friends. A sense of reality struck Hermione. This was her life; her friends always there, but keeping secrets, wanting nothing more than a butterbeer and company of others, just simplicity. Hermione felt dissatisfaction for a moment, but quickly brushed it off as a stomachache. Seeing Luna cough up blood had left her exceptionally queasy. She looked over to her pale friend. Luna was talking to Harry, her eyes even more wide than usual, a rare expression of seriousness on her face. Hermione sighed again, dejectedly. What were the two talking about, that was so important she wasn't allowed to know?

Hermione wallowed in these thoughts of self-pity for several minutes, impassively ignoring Ginny, Draco, and Ron's attempts to make conversation with her. They quickly gave up, however, leaving Hermione in an even worse state of mind. Did they really care so little about what went on in her head? _Who knows,_ Hermione thought to herself glumly. _Who really knows?_ "Excuse me," Hermione said abruptly, bringing all ten eyes of the table to her face. "Bathroom."

Hermione strode off, trying to blanket of misery in her face. She slipped through the closing door and made a beeline for the sinks. They turned on before she even reached one, all whispering at her excitedly. "Pick me! Pick me!" Their eagerness upset Hermione's stomach. She quickly filled her hands with water from the loudest sink and splashed her face, looking in the mirror.

Her hair was once again large and sticking out in all directions. The snow had melted into her hair, reflecting light and leaving it appearing as if it was sparkling. The rich brown eyes staring into her own were flecked with hints of dark gold, magnifying the aura of sadness Hermione had placed around herself. She was vaguely aware of the mirror animatedly chatting away to her, but Hermione ignored the nasal voice and leaned against the wall. It was cool and moist. Hermione wished she could stay there forever, escaping her suspicious thoughts and growing doubts.

She had no right to feel so, and Hermione knew it, but her best friends all seemed to be determinedly leaving her out. What had she done to deserve no part of their attention? _Exactly that,_ Hermione's voice of logic said, snaking into her thoughts and seeding doubt in her memories. _You left them for months. They're giving you a taste of your own medicine._

_It's not like that, though!_ Hermione thought to herself, frustration causing her to run her fingers through her frizzy hair. They're _not like that. _

Her other half only replied indifferently, _Whatever you prefer..._ before drifting off into the crevices of her brain.

She was sick of it all; sick of the waiting, of not knowing, of the squirming in her stomach, of the secrets and lies and deaths and whatever Professor McGonagall had to say. In that moment, Hermione wrenched herself from the bathroom and bypassed her table. They didn't even see her walk by. Sniffing slightly, Hermione walked out of the pub and walked away. There was no particular destination in mind; Hermione just wanted to escape it all for a while. She had become used to being secluded and alone, and the crowds of people all around her were giving her a small panic attack.

As she slowly changed from a frenzied half-run to a casual stroll, the crowds thinned away, and Hermione could breathe once again. She loved her friends, she really did, but sometimes they were just too much. Or too little. Half of her wished at least one of them had walked after her, coming to see what was wrong, proving they cared, proving Hermione was forgiven for months of isolation. But her other half wanted to be alone. Conflict pounded on her eyes; she was getting another headache. She didn't cast a spell to relieve the pain, however. Hermione decided that any pain she felt, she would take on wholeheartedly. No more babying herself, no more weakness, no more delaying the pain.

Hermione was walking determinedly. Maybe she would stay in the Shrieking Shack for a while. No, no, no, it was hardly a suitable place for escape. Perhaps she would walk up to the castle. Hermione had no clue if it would be open. _Probably not,_ Hermione thought to herself, imagining the battle that had taken place a few months ago. Had it only been months? It felt like centuries to Hermione.

She had gone into battle, the memories of her parents still fresh in her mind, screaming and crying at the same time as Tonks held her back, watching that evil grin appear on Bellatrix's face as she disappeared with Voldemort, not being able to claim her revenge, the tears falling into her mouth, choking her, preventing the spells she desperately wanted to release, not knowing that Tonks would die within minutes of that moment, her last actions preventing Hermione from taking the life of her parents' murderer...

Once again, Hermione rattled her head of those thoughts. It was too late. The tears were already spilling over, not stopping, not slowing, only dripping off her face, landing on her shoes, leaving patterns of grief as they slid away, slicing open Hermione's chest and stealing her heart without a look back. Hermione couldn't walk, gravity was winning this battle, and all Hermione could do was press herself against a wall as her knees buckled and she collapsed to the ground, tucking her knees into her arms and resting her head on her hands, the excruciating sobs sending her body into frequent movement.

Hermione never wanted to leave that one spot. She wanted to cry and cry until there was nothing left on the earth, until time itself ran out. But she couldn't. A hand was rubbing against her back, soothing her nerves, relaxing them, easing her shoulders down from their rigid stance. Hermione almost instantly went slack, her body slipping down further. A voice entered her ear, and for a moment Hermione thought she would never want to hear another sound again. "Come along, now, it's alright."

Hermione wiped her nose with her sleeve and slowly stood. Professor McGonagall stood beside her, awkwardness oozing from her every pore. She looked unsure of what she was supposed to do, settling on patting Hermione's shoulder clumsily and gifting her with a rare smile. They looked into each other's eyes for a long moment. Hermione wasn't which one of them was more confused. McGonagall briefly patted her again, this time on the face. She gave Hermione a sad smile, then set her face and walked to the Broomsticks.

Hermione guessed she had no other choice but to follow. She quickly wiped her face dry, hoping the bitter cold would give her an excuse for her red cheeks and puffy eyes. _Stupid weather, really_, her logical voice sniffed disdainfully. _You'd think it'd be warmer in the summer._

Hermione silently agreed.

-----

Hermione was once again sitting at that table, waiting, watching as Professor McGonagall prepared herself to talk. _It must be a long speech_, Hermione thought to herself, as her old Transfiguration teacher took in a deep breath. She looked as if she was going to beat around the bush, but McGonagall's mouth slipped into the thin line Hermione recognized so much before she said the seven words that changed everything.

"Lord Voldemort has spread his reach to America."

The effect was instantaneous; Ron choked on his sip of butterbeer, Ginny became the color of a dead corpse, Harry brought his hand up to his scar. A loud tinkling noise gave way to Draco dropping his glass of firewhiskey. Even Luna looked shocked; her mouth was open in a perfect 'O'.

Hermione began to tremble. That was impossible, how on earth could he have that many allies? "America is _teeming_ with wizards, there was no way possible he could have!" Hermione practically screamed. Memories flashed in her head; those evil crimson eyes, his snakelike nose, his translucent head pulsing with veins. A wave of nausea rose bile in Hermione's throat.

"I'm afraid so. The witches and wizards there don't stand much of a chance; it's been much to peaceful for them over the past centuries. This is the only real fight they've faced in a long time." Professor McGonagall's eyes began to water up. "At this rate he'll take over the whole continent in a few months, then South America, and who knows where else after that..." She paused to blow her nose in a napkin.

"But, Professor," Harry said, fear tainting the green in his eyes, "That's not possible, I mean, can't they stop it?"

"It's not likely. Even the Muggles are noticing it; it's all over their newspapers, they're evacuating cities as we speak." Professor McGonagall was trembling almost as much as Hermione.

"But _surely_ there's something we can do to stop him!" Ginny said, anger bringing color back to her cheeks. "This _can't_ go on!"

"I'm afraid it can. And it will. Voldemort just has too many supporters. It's all a plan, don't you see?"

A flicker of understanding lit up Draco's eyes. "The explosions they've all been talking about. It's him, isn't it? The Dark Lord?"

"Yes, and the Muggles are beginning to suspect us, they think we're attacking them—" Professor McGonagall began, but Hermione cut her off.

"He's got it all planned out. The Muggles will start to kill each other; they'll do his job for him!" Hermione snarled. Hatred, pure and strong, boiled underneath her skin. "And none of us can do anything about it because then our secret would be out! The whole _world_ would know about us!"

Professor McGonagall only nodded sadly. "There are no options left; Voldemort has almost the whole world in turmoil and we can't let the Muggles know about us."

Silence; empty, cold, fear-driven silence dominated the table for a long while. The Transfiguration teacher sat up straight and continued talking, her voice reduced to a small whisper; the pub was almost completely empty. "That's why I came to you. I really only thought I would need you three—" she stopped to nod at Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"but there's strength in numbers. The future is already laid out; no one can stop Voldemort from taking over right now. _However_," she snapped, rising her voice slightly over the sounds of protest coming from the three boys at the table. "I'm talking about the present. What's happening _right now_ can be changed by _going back._" At this she leaned back, ever so slightly smiling.

Luna broke the confused silence resting over them all. "You want us to go back?" Horror broke through her quiet whisper.

McGonagall nodded solemnly. "To your fourth year. Well, for you and Ginevra—" Ginny winced noticeably. "your third year. Just to the third task. You can prevent him from rising up again. I'm fully confident that six students of mine can take him down, especially considering all that you have faced."

"But—but how, Professor?" Hermione couldn't help but bring the conversation back to reality. "Time-Turners can't go back more than a few days, let alone over _three years!_"

"There are other ways, Miss Granger, many other ways, not known or shared by the common witch and wizard. Dumbledore, though, was _never_ common." A dagger of pain lanced through Hermione's chest. She missed her old Headmaster. McGonagall was undoubtedly a fine Headmistress, but it was never quite the same her final year.

"But the way you're suggesting," Draco said slowly, emphasizing every word. "Is there—is there a way to come back? To nowadays, I mean, if we do succeed." After receiving looks from his friends, Draco quickly added, "I've read about some of those ways back at home. They're _very_ risky, and most of them are irreversible."

"Please, just think about it with me!" She was actually begging. "There are so many lives you would be saving, including your own! It's only three years! Hermione," McGonagall said, but she looked the other way. "Your parents—they would still be alive!"

"But I wouldn't be able to see them, would I? Because they're Muggles, and I would have supposed to look fourteen!" Hermione whispered ferociously, not bothering to stop the tears. The very _thought_ of being sent back, seeing them alive and happy and not being able to contact them was torture to Hermione.

All eyes were now trained on Professor McGonagall. She actually squirmed in discomfort. "Well," Ginny said, her voice less than a whisper, yet still loaded with emotion. "_Would there be a way back?"_

The Professor was silent, her eyes focused on a _very_ interesting chair. "_No,_" she whispered, and with that she silently walked out of the pub, Disapparating into thin air with a final look at the six. No one spoke. No one moved. No one breathed. All eyes were on the girl who wanted to vanish, to disappear and never come back.

Hermione's tears dripped into her lap, one by one, the steady pattern matching her racing heartbeat.

**A/N:** Yay, chapter 3!! :"D Please leave a comment, I LOVE hearing your thoughts! I'm almost _completely_ positive they'll be sent back in the next chapter! Thanks so much for all the reviews!


	4. Go Or No

**Shout Out:** Thanks for the reviews Smithback, kk, rita212, ClaireReno, and CeliaEquus!

**A/N:** WAHHHHHHHHH! xP IM SOSOSOSOSOSOSOSOSO SORRY! It was last Sunday, and I was SO CLOSE to being done, then...BAM! Grounded. x/ I guess it wasn't that bad—I have a lot of ideas for later on in the book! But I'll do my chores from now on, PROMISE!

Yeah, so this definitely isn't my favorite chapter...I got some SERIOUS writer's block last week and I'm just sick and tired of this chapter, I absolutely had to finish it... But still, this is the chapter! They're all going back! :"D Please leave me your reviews! How do you think Tom and Hermione should meet? Dramatic or not? Let me know!

**Disclaimer: **As much as I'd loooooove it, I'm not as amazing as J. K. Rowling. The characters and places and just about everything except the plot are all hers.

In the Three Broomsticks, the six have been left with a serious decision...this is a few days afterward...

**August 4, 1998**

_Tap. Tap. Tap_.

Hermione ignored her visitor.

"Hermione, please, open up! We have to talk!"

Hermione only scoffed. She had no words to say to _them_.

So instead she turned on her television and put on the news at a disturbingly loud volume, not bothering about her neighbors who would be trying to sleep. It was the middle of the night. She plainly heard them at her door, but manners were the last thing on her mind at the moment. _Wait 'til they try and Apparate,_ Hermione thought to herself, glowering at the door. Her Anti-Apparition charms could match those at Hogwarts.

"_Hermioneeeeeee_," Ron whined, drawing out her name for several seconds, "Haven't you even thought about it?" No. Never. How could they think she would agree to this? The idea itself wasn't awful, but...

If they did go back to their fourth year, Hermione's parents would still be alive, and she wouldn't even be allowed to see them, let alone _talk_ to them. Hermione's heart did a couple back flips. It was impossible, anyway! There was no magic on earth that would allow them to go back more than a few _days_, a week at best. Hermione rubbed her arms sadly; it was cold and her thin pajama shirt was not helping at all.

But Draco had said something about other spells, spells long-lost in time and extremely dangerous. And Harry...Harry had looked as if he had known about Professor McGonagall's crazy plan for a while now. Maybe that was what he and Luna had been talking about. Hermione's world was so off circuit right now, she would honestly believe it if someone told her that it was expected to rain cats today. _Cats_...Hermione absently wondered what Crookshanks was up to right now. She had sent him with her parents. Maybe he was wandering Australia, meeting koalas and kangaroos...or maybe he had died in the fire.

_No time for that right now,_ Hermione's logical voice said softly. Indeed, there was _no_ time anymore. No time to choose, no time to escape, no time except the past. Hermione ignored this fact pointedly.

"Hermione," Harry's voice seemed to slide through the door and slap her in the face. "Please...just talk to us...you don't have to choose now."

_God, I love him,_ Hermione couldn't help but think to herself. He just seemed to...get her. Understand her pain. Yet, here he was, on the enemy's side, trying to convince her to throw away three precious years of her life.

Hermione tried to respond, tried to sound strong, tried to try, but all she managed was a choked sob. She had been extremely emotional the past few days, crying and eating and crying some more. Hermione didn't know why she cried; it just seemed like the appropriate thing to do in a situation like this.

But her conscience nagged at her, pulling her brain a thousand different directions until all that seemed to be left was a mass of throbbing pain. Rubbing her nose on her frayed sleeve, Hermione reluctantly snatched her wand from the table and walked to her door. She began to quietly undo all of her protective spells, shifting her balance from one foot to the next.

_Right, left, right, left, right..._the door clicked silently. Hermione only had time to get out of the door's way as it was thrust open, slamming into the wall with a none to silent _thud._

"Hermione, _what the hell!_" A voice boomed loudly in her ear. Hermione flinched away, slightly uncomfortable with Draco's breath tickling her neck, his voice almost a purr. "You could have at least _warned _us about your spells!"

"Yeah, that definitely would have been preferred," said an extremely confused-looking Ron. "Did you expect bloody You-Know-Who to be at your door?"

Hermione only smiled bashfully before being enveloped in a bone-crushing hug by Harry, Draco, and Ron. Something was amiss. Hermione squeezed out of their embrace, frowning. "Where are Ginny and Luna?"

Harry looked hesitantly at Ron, who merely shrugged and looked at the floor. Draco almost laughed at the two, a smirk gracing his face before he said lightly, "Oh, they're being Transfigured."

"_What?"_ Hermione shrieked. Transfiguring people was beyond dangerous, especially if you weren't well enough trained. "Why in the name of _Merlin's pants_ would you let them do something as...as...well, _stupid_ as that?"

"Calm down, calm down, 'Mione!" Harry said. His mouth was set in a straight line, but his emerald eyes were flecked with the joy he was attempting to hide. "It's Professor McGonagall. She wants us all to look different, so no one recognizes us. Ron, Draco and I are getting changed too."

Hermione moved her gaze between the three boys, pain edging into her stomach and making her skin crawl. Here were some of her only true friends, her life and her love, and they were giving it all away on the small chance of eliminating Lord Voldemort...She only had these five left in the world, only five souls in which she could confide in and trust. They were all bent on going back three years. Hermione knew she would never see them again after.

Which was why, ten minutes later, they were sitting on her couch.

Hermione tried to ignore the way their gaze swept over her messy home, feeling slightly embarrassed at the state it was in. They seemed not to notice, however; Ron had found the remote and was staring at it avidly, until Harry snatched it out of his hands and flipped channels until he found a basketball game. Hermione absentmindedly wondered why boys were so fond of sports, smiling as the three leaned over, their eyes following every move with the intensity of a snake about to catch its prey.

"There's no way they can win, look, the shooting guard is acting so _stupid_..."

"You're kidding!" Draco snapped at Ron, an angry gleam transforming his grey eyes into flecks of steel. "If anyone's being stupid, it's _you_."

Harry only told them to shut up, his gaze never leaving the television. Hermione sensed a growing tension in the air as three different opinions met, and she silently left the room, walking into the kitchen and examining what remained in her pantry. Hermione wasn't at all in the mood to cook anything, so instead she magicked a bowl of salsa and a bag of chips over to the coffee table. Her only acknowledgement was a near inaudible 'thanks' from Harry as the chips quickly vanished. Looking at her scant pantry, Hermione guessed she could last about a half hour before war broke out.

"Hey, you guys?" No heads moved in her direction as she slowly put on shoes, but Hermione continued on, saying loudly, "I'm going to go and get some more food. Don't burn the house down, okay?" Hermione left without a response.

It was either too late or too early for any Muggle shops to be open, so Hermione made a beeline for a small, beaten up, and altogether unnoticeable building. She was in Diagon Alley in a few minutes, taking in a deep breath of cool, misty night air. "_Lumos_," Hermione whispered silently. Immediately she was off, searching for any sign, any clue, as to where Ginny and Luna might be. Of course, the most logical place was Hogwarts, but McGonagall had asked to meet them at the Three Broomsticks four days ago. Hermione tried not to think about that night as she walked through the deserted alleys and streets.

Hermione shivered. She was still in her pajamas; a foolish choice, but curiosity was clawing at her chest, urging her legs forward as she peered around corners and through windows. They definitely weren't here. Hermione sighed, wishing she had brought a coat, and Disapparated, leaving behind her faint tracks in the snow and an aura of disappointment.

Five minutes later, Hermione was traversing through Hogsmeade. She had no clue how exactly she was going to enter Hogwarts; maybe she would sneak in with a group of other students. But who? Hermione didn't really have any friends that weren't in her year, and if she walked in alone, Filch would recognize her in an instant. Sighing, Hermione cast a Disillusionment Charm over herself and continued forward, praying the detective charms that had been place on Hogwarts in her years were no longer there. As the gates loomed over her head, Hermione began to hear a voice calling her name. "Hermione!"

She turned around, but Hermione didn't recognize any of the other students. It seemed to echo from the back of her mind, getting louder and louder until Hermione turned around again. Two students were running toward her, nearly tripping over their own robes. They were complete strangers with familiar voices. "Luna...Ginny?" Hermione asked tentatively, hoping she was wrong, that these were really only foreigners.

"Hermione, _please_ tell me you've changed your mind!" Ah. It was them.

"Because if you haven't, you know, this will all have been a waste," A pair of dreamy eyes looked into Hermione's own. Luna's eyes, except different.

They were so alien to Hermione; if their voices had not been the same, she would have ignored them completely and continued on to Hogwarts. They were completely different beings.

Hermione assumed the one on the right was Ginny. She was still taller than Hermione, but she had shrunk a few inches and was much leaner. Her hair was a warm, extremely dark brown color, almost black, with no highlights at all. Hermione was baffled; she was so used to seeing Ginny with long, wavy hair, but now it was quite straight and cropped short, barely reaching the middle of her neck and tickling her pointed chin. Her skin was well tanned and had been generously sprinkled with freckles. But the one thing Hermione couldn't keep her eyes off was Ginny's own eyes. A deep, forest green outlined her iris while jade filled in the rest. A ring of deep gold surrounded her pupils. She looked like something out of a fantasy, a forest spirit or something. Hermione grinned. This was definitely Ginny; only she could pull something like this off. "What do you think, Mione?" She asked, a sly smile stretching out her pastel pink lips.

"You look...well..._different_," Hermione said truthfully, slightly put off by the voice coming from a stranger's mouth.

Luna was no more recognizable than the new Ginny. She looked like a foreign model; her skin was almost copper and it gleamed in the moonlight. Her hair was a luxurious brown tinted with dark honey highlights that flowed in haphazardous waves to her small waist, and her skin was clear of any kind of blemish. Luna had traded in her grey eyes for silky brown ones in many shades. Her eyes, those blessed eyes Hermione had once envied so much, were still very wide and projected a very Luna-ish aura. The multiple shades of brown seemed to move on their own accord, swimming in her irises like fish in a pond. She seemed to be about the same height, but Hermione was glad to see she wasn't as deathly thin as before; Professor McGonagall widened her waist to a healthier size and had rounded Luna's features to compliment the rest of her appearance.

"Hermione, you absolutely _have_ to come along!" Luna said seriously, a foreboding look on her new face.

She looked as if she had more to say, but Ginny cut her off and cried, "Hermione, you really _don't_ have a choice...you see..." Ginny looked at Hermione with those big, new, captivating green eyes, and Hermione felt herself begin to melt.

"What?" Hermione queried, looking down to avoid Ginny's hypnotic eyes. She could feel their presence on the crown of her head, and it was unnerving.

"Professor Trelawney...she...had a prophecy," Ginny replied. Now she was the one avoiding Hermione's killer gaze.

"_What?_ When? Why didn't anyone tell me?" Hermione shrieked, but at the same time, a wave of suspicion and distrust flashed through her brain. Wasn't it _convenient_ that Professor Trelawney had a prophecy, just as Hermione was choosing to not come?

"I just told you; Trelawney had a prophecy, and poor Madam Pomfrey is probably in St. Mungo's getting her jaw off the floor as we speak! It was a few days ago, on the second, I think, and we never told you because you've hidden deep in the depths of your house!" Ginny's eyes flashed full gold for a moment as impatience crawled under her skin.

"Oh...Well..." Hermione frantically began to think of an excuse. "I was...sick. A little bit. And I didn't feel like going anywhere."

"Or answering phone calls, or getting the door, or checking emails," Ginny said sharply. "I swear, I must have sent you, like, _five!_ In one day!"

All this time, Luna had been silent, merely bringing fistfuls of hair to her face and looking at them intently, examining her new skin, her new hands. She spoke now, in that unfamiliar cold voice Hermione had only heard once before. "Hermione...don't you _care?_ This could be it; this could be the only opportunity to get rid of Lord Voldemort! _Ever!_ Don't you want to be a part of it? Claim your spot at the table? Hermione, you've been fighting him since year one at Hogwarts, and now you're turning your back?

"Let's face it, Mione, when we leave, you'll have almost nothing! Not to be blunt, or self-absorbed, but I know that me and the others are the only ones you really care about anymore! Ever since your parents died, we've been everything you needed! Do you really _think_ you could go on without us? Because you heard Professor McGonagall; once we're gone, we're not coming back. Not now, not ever." With that, Luna defiantly looked down upon Hermione.

Hermione was...floored. Luna's logic was almost impeccable in her mind. Everything she had said, or assumed, was true. Hermione loved the five like they were her own children, and she wanted to see Lord Voldemort's end more than anything else. She bit her lip, thinking hard. Now Hermione realized how one-minded she had been; she hadn't bothered to look at the endless _possibilities..._If Voldemort was gone, the Death Eaters would practically fall apart, leaving Bellatrix in the wide open for Hermione to snatch. She wouldn't lose sleep every night worrying about everyone and anything. She wouldn't have to walk through Diagon Alley with her wand in her hand. It was just barely more than three years...

"Hermione..." A warm hand, smooth and tan, grasped Hermione's. "Please. Just think about it. We literally _can't_ do it without you, but we're all going back anyways. You're the last one, the final decision. Go or no, victory or fail, and it's all on you." Ginny's voice was still sharp as steel, but regret was wearing away the edges.

Hermione could feel the tears coming again, they were building in power and numbers and Hermione couldn't take it, she had to escape, get away from everyone's never-ending questions, the flicker of red slits in her eyelids—

Hermione crumpled to the ground, sinking her hands into the thick layer of snow. Numbness crept up her fingernails. Hermione wished she bury herself in the snow; not feeling anything, not worrying. "Alright," Hermione said, defeat washing over her. She had barely put up a fight, barely said anything in her defense, and now she was falling apart to the wishes of others. "I'll go."

**August 31, 1998**

"So, what we're going to do is highly complicated and dangerous. At no time are you to use magic in defense or for any other reason. Got it?" Professor McGonagall's eyes trained sharply on Hermione.

"Yes, ma'am, " The six replied, some nervous, some excited, one wishing she could run into another room and throw up. Hermione winced as her stomach flipped over again. The Transfigurations teacher was still suspicious of foul play on Hermione's behalf, which she reacted to indignantly.

"Evidently, Granger has no clue what is going on. I'm assuming none of you were able to tell her?" Again, the icy glare.

"No, we weren't," Ron looked uneasily at Hermione before continuing. "But we all think she'll do fine. This _is_ Hermione, after all." Hermione got the sneaking suspicion there was a double meaning to those words.

Professor McGonagall's lips formed an all-too familiar thin line, but she continued her speech, saying, "Now, this is_ highly_ advanced and old magic. I don't believe anyone has heard of it since 1300 B. C., or earlier. I may make a mistake. I may send you back too far or too little. It is _extremely_ delicate work, and the slightest hesitation on any of your behalf's will result in failure."

_Like Scantrons,_ Hermione thought to herself, remembering the days when she hadn't known she was a witch. The teachers made a huge deal about not erasing properly, or scribbling out of the small rectangle, but it wasn't really the apocalypse. As long as you didn't make huge streaks of lead across the thing, you were most likely fine.

"Professor, please," Harry spoke out. "What if you send us all to different times?" Hermione tried not to blush as his new eyes fell on Hermione's head.

Harry had been changed the previous week, along with Ron and Draco. He looked the same in most aspects—green eyes, glasses, knobby knees—except his hair was now a mousy brown that stuck up in all directions. Draco seemed to have taken up Harry's image of scruffy hair, except it was jet black over his tan skin, making his striking violet eyes stick out even more. Ron had electric blue eyes over the same freckled face, and his hair was more orange than red. Professor McGonagall was hoping he would blend in with the multitudes of Weasley's. Hermione had refused to change almost all of her traits, except the temptation to leave her hair silky smooth and in light waves was too much for Hermione to resist.

"Nonsense, of course. I'll be sending all of you at the same time," The Transfigurations teacher replied, her eyes narrowing. "This spell requires too much energy to do twice, let alone six times over. It's a bit risky, but I don't want some of you with cavemen and the rest relaxing in London 300 years from now." Ron stifled a chuckle.

"The spell," McGonagall said, sending looks of daggers to Ron, "actually creates a separate world, so to speak. However, it does not create a ripple effect. If you were ever to kill someone, they would die in your world, and also in ours. But their children do not disappear as well, nor their other relatives. Everyone is a separate being, and as such, magic back in those days was not powerful enough to affect hundreds, or thousands, of different entities. If someone here was killed, in this world, it wouldn't affect yours. Understand?"

Hermione gripped the straps of her rucksack tightly. She was really going. Part of her wished to snatch her duffel bag off the ground and run. The remainder of her brain was calling her an idiot.

"You've all prepared for the past few weeks. You've got all of your belongings, and you've said your goodbyes. Are you ready?"

"Yes," They all answered. Hermione only managed a small whisper.

"Then, let's begin!" Professor McGonagall clapped her hands together and motioned for the six to grab their bags. Hermione flushed red as she held her bag, containing all of her belongings. All of her friends had two or, in Draco's case, four suitcases that they had used Undetectable Extension Charms on.

"Hermione, a moment, please," Professor McGonagall had a strange expression on her face. "Did anyone tell you what the prophecy said?"

Hermione shook her head, looking at her teacher with confused and hesitant eyes. "That's probably better," The professor seemed to have said to herself, "All the better."

Hermione had no time to be confused, or think about what McGonagall had said; her hands were held tight by Harry and Draco, slowly beginning to throb as their grip tightened.

Professor McGonagall pointed her wand at the six. They all tensed, anticipation buzzing in the air above their heads. Her wand lashed out in a thousand different directions, the words pouring from her mouth in a low and steady hum as the air above them began to crackle. A tremendous pressure was building on Hermione's head, pushing her down, crushing her lungs; she couldn't breathe, this was worse that Apparition, her knees were about to buckle, she wanted to run and hide and breathe and never do this again— _the slightest hesitation on any of your behalf's will result in failure._ Fear dug its claws into Hermione's heart.

It was like a thunderstorm, compressed and placed directly at Hermione's feet, rumbling and flashing bright before turning coal black once more. She was being sucked in, her hand going purple from lack of circulation as Harry squeezed tighter and tighter. There were stars floating in front of her eyes, her ears were popping and all was pain and lack of breath. As the vortex swimming in her eyes grew in size and sound, she lost consciousness and all was black.

It was silent.

Hermione smiled; it was nice when everything was silent.

Peace...and emptiness...and _silence_.

Was there a noise, far away, whispering? Hermione frowned. She wished it would go away, leave her in this silent bliss.

But it wasn't silent anymore; more noises were appearing. "Go away..." Hermione muttered. Why wouldn't they be silent?

How did they know her name? Did she know them? Maybe they could make everything silent again.

Ahh...silence again, for a moment. They were getting closer. And louder. Hermione groaned miserably. "Be quiet..."

Her hair was tickling her cheeks. Hermione giggled, pushing it away. It felt so nice and soft and smooth...Hermione reached for her hair again, twirling it in her fingers and rubbing it across her face. _Mmmm_, Hermione thought to herself, a small smile pulling at her lips.

The noise was directly in her ear, calling her name over and over. It was so rude! Hermione lethargically opened her eyes and turned her head. A face was staring into her own, eyes wide and mouth open. Hermione smiled. It was silent, for now.

There it was again; that noise buzzing in her ear like a mosquito. Hermione put her hand on the face's lips, begging silence with her eyes. The noise got louder, and Hermione began to hear other noises too, though they were faded and dim in the background. The edges of her vision were less dull and blurred, and all the noises began to take their place; the sound of voices, of birds, of wind, of Hermione's irritated sigh.

The world was slowly falling back in place; distant thoughts were now front and center in Hermione's mind. There was a slight _pop_, like a balloon had just exploded, and the noise was terrifying, filling up Hermione's mind, leaving nothing left for thoughts, just words echoing over and over. "_Hermione! Get your lazy arse off the floor!"_

That brought Hermione back to earth with a jolt, she only had time to reply with an angry "Hey!" before she was wrenched from the ground and pulled down a long hallway full of strange objects. Hermione looked around; it seemed familiar, this place, like a face you may have seen several years ago. Snatches of objects looked vaguely memorable.

Wait. She had been here before. Seventh year, when she had stayed, but felt guilty and decided to join Harry and Ron. Hermione had come through here, entering through the Room of Requirement and exiting...at the Hog's Head. Instantly, Hermione whipped her head around so fast she cricked her neck. As she winced at the unexpected pain, a small and delicate figure took her hand. No...it couldn't be. Yet there Ariana was, smiling serenely at Hermione. Hermione ran to catch up with five dimly lit shapes in front of her. She grabbed the shoulder of one and felt large, wavy hair.

"_What the bloody hell is going on?" _Hermione hissed in Luna's ear, but all she did in response was gaze at Hermione with terror-stricken eyes that shone with the moon reflecting many tints of brown.

"Something's gone wrong," Draco cut in, his voice lacking its usual luster and drawl. He actually sounded..._scared._ "Something's not right."

No. No. That was impossible. Professor McGonagall was the best witch Hermione had known, surpassing her own skills easily. How could she have made a mistake? Impossible!

All the while, Hermione walked at a fast pace, nearly a run, following five figures deeply shadowed in the moonlight.

This silence was terrifying.

Hermione fell into a trance, foot after foot after foot. She had no sense of time, or direction. They had both fled from her, left her here with the worst omen lying above her head, waiting for the right moment to strike. Eventually the earsplitting nothingness of the world cracked down on Hermione, and she had to break the strong bonds of silence chaining her mouth. "Where...where are we?"

Five figures stopped. Five figures turned toward her. Five figures realized Hermione had no clue. Harry's voice, from far away, whispered silently, echoing through the hallway, sending a jolt of ice-cold horror down Hermione's back. "Not where," he said silently, not trying to hide his desperation as he began to walk again. "_When._"

**A/N:** So, it's definitely not my best chapter...but there are worse out there, right? ...Right? :"/ Well, there ya go! They're in the past! What do you think of their new appearances? Do you like them? Please, please, PLEASEOHPLEASE review! :"D

And also...

HAPPY LATE MOTHER'S DAY!


	5. Trick Step

**Shout Out:** Thanks for the reviews Smithback, CeliaEquus, riddda, ClaireReno, LunaLovegood1117, Hermitt, Not an animal, Snapegirlkmf, and Not ananim al for giving me an extra boost that I needed!

**A/N:** Alright, I'll admit it. I'm an awful person and don't deserve all your really nice reviews. I am SOSOSOSOSO very sorry for the ridiculous wait I've put you through! There's a slightly longer explanation on my page if you want to check it out. I promise, I have not and don't plan on abandoning this story, but high school is much, much more busy than I expected, especially because of band, and being a confused little fishy doesn't help :"/ The wait in-between chapters will be longer, but I will try my absolute hardest to make sure it's not as long as this. Alright, I've rambled along and I'm sure you're tired of me. But-

Thanks so much for the reviews, they really help me out with how the characters are progressing and whatnot :") I'm not quite sure how the six will figure out when they are, probably in the next chapter or the chapter after that! (Of course, you've already guessed or probably know, but still xD) Please review with ideas on which house they should each get sorted into :") I always thought Draco could second as a Ravenclaw...

**Disclaimer: **As much as I'd loooooove it, I'm not as amazing as J. K. Rowling. The characters and places and just about everything except the plot are all hers.

Professor McGonagall has evidently made a mistake...the six are determined to find out when they have shown up.

**Unknown**

They had been in the Room of Requirement for three days. While it had provided clothes, and beds, and even bathrooms full of toiletries, it refused to give food. Hermione was ravenous; she could feel her stomach screaming bloody murder at her and sense the way her body trembled when she stood up. But Hermione was not the worst of the six; Ron looked ready to commit cannibalism if need be and Luna was even more thin than before Professor McGonagall had altered her features. Draco's new vibrant, shocking purple eyes had dulled and now looked dead.

Harry would probably be the first one submitted for human sacrifice.

Since yesterday, he had felt the need to retell his famous adventures from year one at Hogwarts. Though Hermione, Ron, as well as Ginny knew how most of them went, Harry seemed perfectly alright with telling Draco and Luna his fascinating wanderings at Hogwarts.

All the while, Hermione could sense her sanity fraying away in the back of her mind, a thin string gone too long without tending to. She couldn't think as clearly, her sentences tended to trail off, and logic was sliding off the side of her head the way rain trickles down a windowpane, away and away until only a confusing, streaked pattern remained.

_Think, Hermione, think,_ a small voice from the slums of her failing mind had begun to tell her, chanting the small sentence a hundred times over. _You can't stay in here any longer, you'll starve!_ There was a sad truth to those words, as each time Hermione would look upon her beloved friends and see the pallor in their faces growing more obvious by the minute. _We can't live like this,_ Hermione thought sadly. _Stuck in a room, dying of hunger when we should be trying to get back to our own time!_ But what could she do, to retrieve the sparkle in their eyes? A plan. She needed a plan. How could she think, though, when her mind was just a dead weight in her skull?

Obviously, she needed to get to the kitchens. Food led to clear thoughts, clear thoughts opened doors to action and action gave way to when the _bloody hell_ they were. Hermione honestly didn't mind just parading through the corridors, but it was impractical. If someone saw her, they might realize she wasn't a student. So, Hermione couldn't be seen, shouldn't be heard, and wouldn't be caught if...she used Harry's cloak. A squeal of anticipation escaped from Hermione's lips and flew high into the air, the first sign of life in hours. "Harry!" Hermione whispered, grabbing his arms as he sat up from on a leather couch. "Harry! Harry, where's your cloak?"

"Wha...?" Harry blearily opened his eyes, that familiar emerald gaze shattering into a million pieces as they hit his rounded glasses.

"Your cloak, your Invisibility Cloak, the one you got in your first year!" Hermione shook his arms; they flopped around like pathetic noodles as Harry's eyes widened noticeably.

"Oh, uhm..._blimey!_ Why didn't we think of that before?" With that, Harry jumped off the couch and half-ran, half-limped to the larger of his rucksacks. "Yeah...it should be in here, gimme a second..."

Hermione jumped up and down in excitement, keeping a watchful eye on the other four. They would know in good time where she was going, but for now, this was her own idea—her own adventure. Besides, Hermione could probably figure out when they were on her own. She was a capable witch, fully able to protect herself anywhere. She shifted her weight left to right as Harry dug ever deeper into his bag. "Yeah...here it is."

There it was. Hermione snatched the silky fabric without another word to Harry and whipped it over her head, watching in light amazement as she quickly blended into the surrounding air. Hermione tiptoed to her bag and pulled out her wand. She had her foot on the doorstep when she slowly turned around and looked at her friends. Harry had sat down and was falling asleep, that glorious mouth of his going ever so slack as his eyes fluttered shut. Hermione left with him in all of her thoughts. To keep him safe, the Chosen One, meant to destroy Lord Voldemort. If only that was the one reason she kept him so close to her heart.

"_Holy sh—"_ Hermione instantly became mute, looking around the empty corridors for Mrs. Norris, crouching down as low as possible even though the cloak was still upon her. A loud thudding was traveling through her blood; pure adrenaline rousing suspicion in her brain and stimulating her thoughts. True, she should have watched her tread more carefully, but Hermione never remembered _this_ trick step existing!

So there she was, about halfway to the kitchen with her left leg ankle-down stuck in a step that was as hard as concrete. Hermione desperately struggled to free her foot, but she only sunk down several more inches, the cool floor brushing just below her knee. She immediately froze, stiffening her body and leaning over to peer down either way of the hallway. Surely someone was in the castle? Someone who could help her get out. A ghost maybe; or a student wandering the hallways in the deep black of night...Not likely, but Hermione was determined to be an optimist. Besides, what with Head patrols and teachers continually checking the hallways, she would be found and helped. If need be, she would just erase their memory and be on her merry way with a careful and observant tread. But according to her watch, which still worked despite all odds, told her nearly half an hour had passed, and most of her knee was now in the step. _Calm down, Hermione,_ she desperately told herself, willing a state of empty bliss to soothe her frantic nerves. _Someone will come. Someone..._ Hermione's confidence was melting away like ice under a blazing summer sun.

This wouldn't work; she needed help before it was impossible to get out. Willing words to come, Hermione took a shaky breath. "Help," She whispered miserably.

To Hermione's now nonexistent surprise, no one came. "Help," She said louder, her voice almost at a normal volume. "Hello?" Nothing.

Hermione groaned. She couldn't wait all day for her friends to send out a search party, but what could she do, when over half of her leg was missing? "Can...can someone help me?" Hermione took off the Invisibility Cloak and began shouting. "Hello? Is anyone here?"

Several more minutes passed. Not a single hint of life blessed Hermione's eyes. She slumped to the floor as best as she could; her leg was buried up to the middle of her thigh. A single tear trickled down her face. If only she could remember the spell! Send her otter to the Room of Requirement, beg for help! It wouldn't have worked, though. The room's magic would have prevented it. "What a shame, actually. Such a pretty girl stuck in such a bad situation? Peevsie should help, oh yes, he should!"

Hermione flinched and hit her head on the railing. As she rubbed her head forlornly, Peeves began to take shape, gazing at her with a wide, flimsy grin. "Oh, but wait, is this a _student_? I don't believe I recognize _you_." His drawl was irritatingly close to Draco's. _Ugh,_ Hermione thought to herself.

"I-I'm not a student, no..." Hermione trailed off, desperately trying to look relaxed. "But I'm going to be! Please, can you bring someone over to help me?"

Peeves looked at her for a minute, then cackled and flew away, his taunting laugh dangling in the air above Hermione's head, tempting her to send a million hexes in his direction. "No! Come back..." Hermione rubbed her temples. Help would come... Peeves wouldn't dare leave a child, student or not, stuck like this. Would he? Hermione shifted slightly, and her leg was sucked in another inch. It was painful more than irritating at this point; Hermione's other leg was stiffening and the way she was sitting stretched her trapped leg more than she would have liked in the first place.

Why, why, _why_ had she chosen to venture out on her own? It was such a stupid choice; you should never go wandering alone! Hermione felt like slapping herself. She delicately pressed a hand to her moaning stomach, and winced slightly as she realized several inches had been stripped from her waist, as well as any fat she may have once had. Funny how all those childhood dreams of being thin and slight were now hers at such a cost. Karma had something to say about Hermione, of that she was sure. No spells came to her mind, no words or thoughts or actions that would do _anything_ useful graced her. Hunger was winning the battle. Small specks of black light, dark and dazzling, began to pop in her vision, melting together until all was sparkling darkness and starvation. Hermione collapsed to the floor, feeling nothing.

Ginny groaned. "Where _is_ she? It oughtn't to have taken her so long..." At this she looked over at her friends.

Luna had conjured up a Quibbler and was thoroughly engrossed, her wand neatly tucked behind her ear as always. Ron was fast asleep, snoring as always, and Harry was quickly nearing unconsciousness. Draco seemed to be the only one with some spark in his body, Ginny noted, as he twirled his wand between pale and warm fingers, which stopped their movement to wrap around Ginny's own. "Relax, Gin," he said lazily, passing a quick smile at her before hunger stabbed his abdomen. "She'll show up soon enough. Granger's invincible, right? Gryffindor princess and all that jazz, bookworm and knower of enough spells to blast Hogwarts itself out of existence." Ginny only scowled. "Besides, the longer she's gone, the more time we have to discuss—"

"You do realize how dangerous it is to bring that up? She could be in here right now! You saw Hermione leave with Harry's cloak," Ginny's scowl began to recede, but a light frustration had entered her golden green eyes.

"Doesn't matter, does it?" Draco grinned, brushing his other hand through Ginny's hair, observing it, taking in all its different qualities when compared to the mane of red she once had. "We haven't talked about what it says at all. Not when she's been round. Why can't she know, anyways?"

"Because," Ginny started, a rage drawing out the color in her eye as her eyebrows furrowed deep into her line of vision, "if she doesn't know about it, she won't try to fight it, or much worse, accept it. It's better for her to not know. When Harry learned about his prophecy, it nearly destroyed him, having that much insight. And anyways, _we_ don't even fully know what it means. What McGonagall told us might not be true, and you know it."

"Well, then," Draco said, inching away from her and starting up his routing of twirling once more. "I'm sorry to have trodden on sensitive subjects. What it said about you, and me, and the rest of us—" Here he stopped to look at his new companions, slightly swelling with pride at the choice he had made. "may not be true either.

But both knew, deep in their hearts, the lies they had just uttered. No matter how hard they would try, the prophecy would work its way into their lives, hazy and subtle, until everything collapsed and their worst enemies and best allies were no longer clear.

**Unknown**

Hermione's state of awareness came in bits and pieces. A finger here, a toe there, the slightest of itches on her calf from sheets too long unattended to. The one constant, however, that remained no matter what she did, was the low hum of voices in the background, discussing things she decided were not worth hearing. They seemed to be arguing in hushed voices, the venom still there but slightly fuzzed. Hermione simply tried to slow her thumping heart, ease her panic, and think of a good reason as to why she was unconscious on a trick step. She closed her eyes in a futile attempt to appear asleep

Several minutes passed, and then a noise of obvious dismissal was thrown into the air. Hermione heard footsteps echoing in what must have been a large and open room, then the creak of a door being open and slammed shut. More footsteps, quiet and smooth, drew closer to Hermione's bed. She inwardly flinched every time the stranger's shoes hit the ground. The groaning of a stool being dragged across the floor against its will shrieked in Hermione's ears until it came to a shuddering halt right beside her bed. The silence was more ear-splitting than all the noise in the world. Thankfully and horribly, though, it was broken by a voice as fluid and graceful as flowing water. "I know you're awake, by the way. You're a horrible actress."

Hermione's eyes snapped open and she glared at this stranger who dared mock her. Before her brain could even begin to react or do anything helpful, the words tumbled out of her mouth in a rush. "Excuse me? And how would you know you hadn't woken me up just then?" But her thoughts finally caught up with her actions and she realized what a stupid choice that had been. To cover her reddening cheeks, Hermione buried her head in her hands.

"Well," the boy said in mock wonder, though he was really more of a man. "There's the fact that your eyes were open not five minutes ago, your pulse is erratic, your breathing is highly irregular, and the reaction you just gave me."

"Oh." Hermione blinked and her eyelashes brushed against her palms swiftly and softly. The heat was still flushing her face, but she didn't realize until then this vehement reaction was not due to this stranger's accusation. It was because of his strikingly handsome features.

His dark chocolate hair was tucked behind his ears and parted finely, not a single wavy hair out of place. His skin was pale and flawless, clinging tight to his body, yet he did not look unhealthy or gaunt, simply wiry, in a way. His nose was firmly set above lips so pale they were very nearly white, and his eyes were a work of art. Icy blue and steel grey, blended together with such delicacy and precision Hermione felt pulled in after just one second of staring. He was wearing the traditional Hogwarts robes, but his tie was missing. The look on his face had been intrigued yet unimpressed by her acting, and just ever so smug.

"At least the headmaster didn't notice. Honestly, he's a nightmare. You don't want him up your alley." The words were obviously meant to draw her in, loosen the tension surrounding her body, but it was said with a cold indifference that chilled Hermione to the bone. "So," he continued, and Hermione, following her own strict rules of etiquette, looked him in the eye, and found herself slipping once more under his gaze. "Why'd you end up here?"

Confusion flashed through Hermione's face and he scoffed. "Why did I find you unconscious in Hogwarts at two in the morning with the entirety of your left leg in a trick step? What happened to your home? Your family?" It was very small and hardly noticeable, but Hermione caught how his voice broke slightly on his last sentence. She did not answer, just looked down at her frail body and shook her head slightly.

"Fine then. You're supposed to stay here for a week, Maggie says. You'll be fine in time for Sorting tomorrow, though, if you want to stay." He sneered at Hermione and with that walked off at a fast pace.

Hermione looked at her surroundings, trying to forget the handsome snot that had just left what was now clearly the Infirmary, except a little cleaner, a little brighter. On the stool her visitor had just abandoned was a fresh-looking edition of the Daily Prophet. Time seemed to freeze. Hermione picked it up tenderly, praying the date would be decent, hoping against all hopes that maybe McGonagall hadn't made a mistake, that the stranger was just another obnoxious Slytherin. The paper flipped open and the cover read: _MORE FAMILIES MISSING, GRINDELWALD STILL AT LARGE. _Underneath, in tiny, moving numbers and letters, was a date that changed anything and everything.

_August 31, 1944._

**A/N:** Whew! Short, I know, but I've worked really hard on it! I'm glad I got this chapter up; I'm pretty sure that next chapter they'll find out when they are! :"D Whatcha think of the prophecy, huh? Mysterious stuff, I think! But then again, my opinions don't matter. Yours do! So feel free to drop an opinion in the form of a review! :"D


	6. Cursed

**Shout Out:** Thanks for all the reviews, but I've honestly lost track of everyone who's left a note for me. I'll keep a closer eye next time, promise!

**A/N:** *bats cobwebs out of face, sneezes because of inches of dust* Sooooo….how're y'all doing….

…. o_o ….

I'm sorry! High school has turned out to be a lot more work and even more so procrastination than I had originally thought. Plus, I no longer have my own lapertop to tinker away on. But that's a really crappy excuse. I'm beyond sorry for the ridiculous wait I've put you through, my 5ish readers! These next few chappies are going to be mostly fluff-I still need to work out a plot-so please bear with me for the horribleness. LunaLovegood1117 is ever my motivation, and if this fanfic suddenly disappears off the face of the earth again, blame her for not shouting at me enough!

Just a warning to all you now…if you're not a fan of OOC characters, then you should probably abandon this story now. ESPECIALLY if you don't like OOC Hermione. She's going to change a _lot_. You have been warned, so please no hate mail!

**Disclaimer: **As much as I'd loooooove it, I'm not as amazing as J. K. Rowling. The characters and places and just about everything except the plot are all hers.

Hermione has discovered exactly when she is, but her friends remain alone and uninformed, starving in the Room of Requirement...

**August 31, 1944**

Hermione leaped out of her bed, its hinges creaking something terribly and her body feeling about the same. Jamming her hand in her pocket, she discovered her wand was mercifully still there and ran to the door, only to be interfered by a rather-shocked looking woman in matron-like clothes. _She must be the lady who preceded Pomfrey; what did that boy call her? Maggie?_ "Now, now, now! Where do you think you're going? You're very ill, dearie, and incredibly weak! You must sit down, I _insist_!" Hermione let out a feral snarl that scared even herself before shoving past the middle-aged woman and barreling down familiar pathways and portraits.

As she ran, Hermione immediately noted the exhaustion clamping down on her legs and setting her lungs on fire, sending her brain into a tizzy blur as a hammer pounded at her left temple. Something was most definitely wrong, besides her severe lack of nutrition. Surely the matron, despite not knowing who she was, would have patched her up some? Hermione shook her head of cotton balls and stars before pushing herself faster, ignoring the way her piteous body wailed and trembled. _Think, think…Where to go, what to do, must find the others, must get food, must keep running and never hesitate because if you do you won't ever move again…_ The thoughts kept up an endless river of distractions.

Hermione's breath began to halt and quiver, dancing around the back of her mouth, simply content to tease her lungs before supplying only a gasp of air that left her throat sore and crackly. Tears began to well up along the rims her eyes and mix in with the sweat trailing down her face, desperate things that came from the first realization of what had happened. _Oh God, oh God, please don't let it be true, let it all just be a dream, God, let me wake up now and realize it was all just a bad dream, let me wake up, let me wake up!_ A sob tore through Hermione's throat, to be followed by more and more until she really could no longer breathe. She kept running, the walls around her blurring together until her stomach started heaving, dry retches spilling out, but never food. Her chest was trying to suffocate her, tighten until she was just putty inside. Hermione looked down at her fingers, wondering if pinching herself would wake her up from this nightmare. They were clammy and pale, and the tips were tinged a pale blue. Hermione couldn't help the hysteria that caused her to start giggling. _I'm in shock, I'm dying, and I'm completely lost. Perfect!_ Hermione kept laughing, not even noticing as her laughs turned hoarse and blood started to seep out of the corners of her mouth. Hermione barely realized she had collapsed to the floor until her head make a solid _crack_ against the stone, causing another fit of laughter to be forced out of her lungs. She didn't react to the hot, sticky mess matting her hair against her body; didn't see the spots in her vision, didn't do anything except gurgle past the blood coming from everywhere.

But above all, she didn't feel the hands wrapping around her body and lifting her up, causing her head to wobble every time her carrier took a step.

….

_The lake was a sea-green color, scattering reflections from the sun everywhere, leaving purple spots in Hermione's vision. Seagulls cried out overhead, and Hermione had a brief flash of imagination: herself, soaring through blue skies and fluffy clouds. And Willa, of course. How could she have forgotten her best friend?_

"_Hermione, hurry up! We'll be late!" Hermione cast a quick glance behind her, smiling as she did so and half-walking, half-swimming out another foot into the lake._

"_What's there to be late for? Is this because you can't swim? I told you, you don't have to go far out, I'll stay right here with you!" When Willa didn't reply, Hermione called out, "Don't be such a scaredy-cat, Willa!" Willa glared at her in frustration, sighing before splashing Hermione with lukewarm water. "Hey! You were the one who wanted to come here in the first place!"_

"_I know," Willa replied testily, "but now I don't want to be here at all. Come on, let's go!" She grabbed Hermione's arm and dragged her to the shore with surprising strength for one so delicate looking._

"_Wh-hey! What's your problem?" Hermione tried to wrench her arm away, but Willa had her in a viselike grip, iron hard and unrelenting._

"_Hermione, I'm telling you, if we don't leave now, we're going to be in serious trouble for being late!"_

"_Late? Late for what? We have absolutely no other plans for today, or tomorrow for that matter!"_

"_Never mind, let's just go! We need to change out of these wet clothes, anyway." Hermione looked down at her tattered shorts and thin shirt, but they were completely dry. _

"_What are you-" Willa wheeled around to face Hermione, her pupils dilated until all Hermione could see was black._

"_Do as I say! We are leaving now, unless you are willing to pay the consequences of being late!"_

_Hermione instantly dug her feet into the damp sand, sending Willa to a jerky stop. "I am not going _anywhere_ until you tell me what is so important!" The look in Willa's coal-black eyes was so terrifying it sent a chill down Hermione's back. Willa smiled at Hermione, her features still demented as she tilted her head, as if to better see Hermione. "Why, darling," Willa crooned, reaching up her unused hand to brush away a few curls from Hermione's face. "Your funeral, of course." Hermione looked down at Willa in horrified confusion._

_She had barely a second to comprehend before Willa plunged a serrated dagger into her stomach._

….

Hermione woke up in a cold sweat, clutching at her stomach in agonizing pain and taking in buckets full of air, enough to send her body floating up and away from the tortures in her mind. Her fumbling hands wove tangles around her abdomen, searching for a wound of any sorts, only to be disappointed-or rather, relieved-with not a single sign of mistreatment other than her own malnutrition. She tried to sit up, but was immediately pushed back down by an all too familiar hand. _Harry,_ Hermione thought in relief. He was here, he had come to save her! Everything would be fine now. Just as she was planning on how to explain the situation, she saw Harry's eyes and gasped in shock. They weren't full of happiness or surprise. They were foreboding, silently begging her to understand something was very, very wrong. Just as Hermione's lips opened in a hesitated question, a voice preceded her and erupted from not ten feet away. "_So,_" the booming voice said by means of an introduction, "it seems as if you've grown particularly fond of this bed, eh…what did you say her name was?" A quieter, more timid noise mumbled out Hermione's name. "Oh! Yes, yes, _Hermione_."

Hermione whipped her head around and strained against the dim lighting for a few moments before a very large, very sweaty, and overall uncomfortable looking man swelled like a pufferfish at her gaze. _Headmaster Dippet_, Hermione thought to herself dimly, wondering if he had demanded his headmaster portrait to be altered to a more desirable physique. Looking past the bothered man, Hermione saw the terrified faces of four other people. It took her a moment to recognize them, but there they were: her comrades, each holding varying levels of caution in their eyes. Hermione's breath hitched when she saw Ginny-right below her gorgeous left eye was a deep gash, sloppily bandaged and oozing fresh blood over brown stains. Ginny winked and let out a half smile by means of assuring Hermione she was okay. "Yes, yes…would you care to explain what is going on here, Hermione? Your friends all seem to be, ah, hesitant to allow details." _Of course they hadn't, because we hadn't planned for this! Think, Hermione, where has your mind gone?_

"Well, Headmaster, don't push her too hard. She's very weak, it's a miracle I was able to retain her for so long! If your prying causes her any discomfort, I'll have to ask you to leave," In that instant, Hermione was beyond grateful for the matron and did her best to look tired and disturbed by Dippet's presence, which wasn't too difficult. She could already feel the creepy-crawlies fluttering across her arms every time she looked at the sweaty Headmaster. Dippet let out a long, rather childish sigh, before storming out of the Hospital Wing, caring enough to slam the doors behind him. "Don't you worry over him," Maggie said, leaning over to smooth down Hermione's blankets and take her temperature. "He's rough, but only because he cares so much about his students. Though, I must say, your friends did give him quite a fright. You'll have to forgive his mistake," Maggie continued on, sounding a little breathless and she swept a glance over at Ginny's face. "they just barged right in here in the middle of the night and she was in the lead, it scared us both, but then I saw him-" at which point she looked over at Harry, "-carrying you and I knew something was dreadfully awry." Harry seemed suddenly to be fascinated with the battered floor.

"I'm sorry, I-" Hermione began, but she was immediately shot down by Luna, who looked ever so serene as she said, "Pardon, but can we speak with Hermione alone?"

Maggie gazed at her with confused milky eyes, but said nothing before walking away and out of the Hospital Wing. "Hermione, what were you _thinking_?" Immediately shot out of Ginny's mouth.

"We knew you were leaving-"

"But why where you gone so long?"

"And so Ginny and I came looking-"

"Oi, we all came, don't be hogging the glory!"

"Shut up, Ron!"

"You were just bleeding everywhere, it was terrifying!"

"And bloody hell, you were laughing like a bleeding maniac-"

"Hermione, I can't believe you didn't tell us-"

"_Hey!_" Hermione cut through their mindless chatter, raising her hands to massage her temples. "Will you all just _calm down_? Give me a few minutes to think." Hermione slowly shifted through her groggy mind, pulling details out of slick piles of jumbled nonsense. "So, I'm assuming you all know where-er, when-we are?"

"Yep. September of 1944. Quite the convenience, don't you think?" Ginny's verdant eyes glowed in the dimness. "While you were getting us into sticky situations, we've hatched a plan. A brilliant one, if I must say so myself!"

"So, Oh Brilliant One, what's the plan?"

"Oh, don't ask me, Ron came up with it." The room seemed eerily silent for a second, before Ron picked up where Ginny had left.

"Well, you see, I was thinking, Voldemort's got to be what, round this time? Fourteen? Fifteen?"

"Seventeen," Hermione murmured absently. "He'd be seventeen and still at Hogwarts."

"So," Luna interrupted quietly, "Ron thought we could solve all of our problems before they'd even begun." Hermione caught on and let out a small gasp. To kill Voldemort as an evil, snakelike being was one thing…but to kill him as Tom Riddle was entirely another. He'd still have a human face, but then again, he'd still have already make a horcrux, or at the very least, killed Moaning Myrtle. _This is the line between words and actions, Hermione,_ she thought to herself. _This is where you choose what role you will play-sitting on the sidelines or going out and saving lives, no matter what it takes._ "Wait…" Hermione said, jutting out her chin ever so slightly and looking over at the particularly silent boy with scruffy raven hair. "Drake, what do you think of this plan?"

A pair of burning violet eyes met her own before Draco sighed and joined the small circle around Hermione's bed. "I don't like it. It's too much like what…_he_ would do, if he had the opportunity."

"But Draco, this could be our only option-" Harry began, only to be cut off.

"I know that, but that does nothing to change the fact that we're killing people that we have no reason to kill! I don't care if he's already offed Myrtle; he's not the same thing he is in our time!" With that, Draco receded back into the shadows and promptly exited the Wing. Ginny put on a pout before going after him.

"Draco's been a little off kilter ever since we found you lying there," Harry explained. "It messed him up pretty badly. But what's important now is that we all have our stories straight, so you're going to need to listen. Sound good?" Hermione felt herself melt under Harry's gaze and nodded limply. He took in a deep breath before he began to narrate as if he was talking to the Headmaster. "My name is Harry Evans. I'm traveling with my cousin, Draco Wright, and my friends, Ronald Sampson, Ginny Nymph, and Hermione and Luna Percival. They're sisters, you see, but Hermione was adopted into Luna's family after hers was killed when she was a baby.

"We were all taught in the privacy of our own homes, to keep us safe from the war. Often times, we would all get together to learn new potions or spells. That's how we all know each other. On one of our group days, a horde of Grindelwald's followers barged in and started firing spells at us. All our parents were killed in an effort to save us. Since then, we've been traveling, searching for a place to hide, when we heard about a particular Vanishing Cabinet at a place called Borgin and Burkes. We ended up here, and the rest is history."

Hermione's eyelids began to flutter in thought and confusion. "But wait…doesn't that sound just…_too_ convenient?"

Harry grinned at her challenge, replying, "Not necessarily. Quite a number of families pulled their children out of the wizarding schools for safety reasons. And the Vanishing Cabinet was a popular escape method in this time. All we need are a few details to make it more convincing, but I wouldn't put up the effort. Maggie's sort of taken with Ron." The very man of subject flushed a deep maroon color. "Besides, Luna explained everything to Dippet and he seems pretty confident in us. He even asked if we wanted to stay here to complete our final year of school."

"Wait! What? No one said anything about repeating a year!" Ron burst out, rapidly switching his gaze between Harry, Luna, and Hermione.

"Calm down, Ron! This is beneficial! May I remind you, we didn't even start our seventh year, and nor have Ginny or Luna! We're really not repeating anything," Hermione shot back, already twitching in anticipation. To finish her education…despite her outward calm, Hermione was dancing in her mind.

"Yeah, well it's all bloody good for you! Dippet's already asking if you could be Head Girl, something about his other option dropping out of Hogwarts…" Hermione let out a high-pitched squeal and sat up. Black spots whirled in her vision, and nausea shoved her back down onto scratchy pillows.

"Easy there," Harry said, shooting her a warning glance. "The spell really took a toll on you, more so than anyone else. Take that, add starvation and a panic attack, and you've got quite a bit of baggage on you. Maggie says you'll have to stay here until term starts, and maybe then some." Hermione frowned a bit. "Why would it affect me more…?" A flash of memory swept across her mind.

"_It is __extremely__ delicate work, and the slightest hesitation on any of your behalf's will result in failure."_

"Oh…" Hermione sucked in a bit of air, wincing as it tore through her lungs. Had the spell known she was reluctant? _This will definitely require some digging into…_ "I still don't understand what we'll do while we're here, other than, well…anyways, what will we do about clothes and supplies?

"That we haven't planned out yet. Maggie's suggesting providing money for us, but Dippet doesn't seem to be backing the idea. Hey, can you guys give us a moment?" Ron and Luna quickly followed after Ginny and Draco, and Harry faced Hermione slowly, hesitantly. Fearfully. "Listen, er, I'm technically not supposed to be telling you this…Maggie doesn't want you to worry, but I know it'd be even worse if I didn't let you know what's going on."

Hermione clasped Harry's hand like an anchor, bracing herself for whatever he was about to throw at her. _Don't let anyone be hurt, don't let anyone be hurt, please don't let any of them be hurt because it'll be my entire fault…_

"There's, er, something, something…well, something happened, we think, when we were coming back…_here_, something that affected us…just you, actually, but, well...Maggie thinks she knows what it is but she won't tell us, she says it's beyond anything she's ever seen, and, well, you see, it's not…good. It's bad, really bad, as in life-threatening bad." Hermione started trembling, but Harry kept talking, his words beginning to jumble together and trip over each other as they flew out into open air. "Maggie thinks it's like a, a parasite, you know? She says it'll…it'll keep eating at you, but not _you_, you, not the physical you, more like the mental and emotional you until there's nothing left. She says it'll weaken you and distort what you see as reality. But she's only guessing, it doesn't mean there's nothing we can do to help, and we all are going to help, all five of us, and Maggie and anyone else who wants to." Harry's voice abruptly cracked and became harsh. "We're not giving up on you, not ever. Understand?"

Somewhere in the hurricane of Hermione's mind, a small drive to live forced her head up and down in a nod. "And…how…how long do I have? If it turns out to be life threatening? How long until I-I-I-" Hermione couldn't force herself to spit out the word. _Die._ This was all happening too fast, much too fast and the thoughts were spinning in her head frantically, each lingering in her eyes before flitting away, preparing themselves for the end.

"Two years. Maybe one. Less, Maggie says, if you're not careful."

_Bam._ A weight crushed Hermione's lungs, stole her breath and gave it to someone else, handed it off to someone who would need it, who would live longer than she. A wheezy gasp puffed its way out of Hermione's stone cold lips before she roughly shoved Harry away from her, denying with every fiber of her being that her death could be marked on a calendar. "Leave me alone, please. Go somewhere else."

"Mione, I-"

"Just _GO!_" Hermione screamed past the tears that were gathering, pooling, streaming down her face and shoved Harry again, sitting up and fighting the vertigo threatening to take over her body. "_LEAVE ME ALONE!"_ There was no way, no chance it was real. _How could it be real? Impossible. Impossible! ...Possible? Truth? _Harry left without looking back.

Analytical thoughts burst through Hermione's head, detailing and breaking down every event since her venture back in time. _Not good. Not good at all. The lack of observation. The fainting. That was all from hunger, wasn't it? The running off…shock, obviously, what else could it have been? The fainting again…new subject, new subject! The dream…the dream…am I dying?_

Hermione imagined an evil, vile substance coursing through her veins, something without a name and for all she knew, without a cure. _I must have gotten it from the spell,_ Hermione thought to herself. _This can't be an ordinary thing. Not something that…sucks away who I am._ Another weight collapsed on her body, a weight of realization and unforgiving insight. _One to two years. If Maggie's correct, I'll be lucky to live to twenty. I won't ever get married or have kids or be a grandparent. I'll be dead before I can fall in love._ As much as Hermione hated to admit it to herself, she didn't love Harry in quite the way she knew she should. Through every hug and kiss, Hermione was pushing past walls screaming at her that Harry was _just a brother_. But now was no time for such thoughts. Now was the time to dash to the library, grab a few dozen books and become buried in the simple truth of ink on parchment. But she couldn't. The pain in her abdomen had spread to her legs like a rotting plague, leaving sore and tentative muscles.

So her only option was to wait. Wait, and cry, and then try to erase the tears, puffy eyes, and red nose when Maggie poked her head through the Infirmary door, asking if Hermione was capable of being sorted with her friends. She just nodded, her voice seeming to have run away. Maggie tugged along with her a wheelchair, and the very sight nearly drove Hermione to tears once more. The entire time she was settling in the chair and being wheeled off to the Great Hall, she couldn't help thinking. _You know. Do you know? Why won't you tell us the name?_ _Why won't you tell _me _the name?_ _What about it could be so awful you can't speak the words? Will you just leave me without help?_

The Sorting of the first years passed in a hazy blur. Hermione didn't hear nor cared to hear Headmaster Dippet's long speech on new enforcement of curfews, but a very happy, very _young_ Dumbledore caught her eye and she watched him, fascinated, until Ginny popped up out of nowhere and gave her a hug. Hermione tensed before turning around to see she was no longer alone, but accompanied by the only remnants of what had been. "Are you ready?" Luna asked Hermione, her transfigured eyes glowing in the semi-darkness of the Great Hall.

"Much as I ever will be, I suppose," Hermione answered half-heartedly. She knew what was coming, what would come, and was preparing for it as much as possible. Her fears ran deep and strong, but to evade the inner ghosts, sometimes the best thing anyone could do was close their eyes and pray for ignorance. At that time, the wobbly voice of Dippet exploded into the Hall, asking—demanding—attention.

"Students! At this time, I would like to introduce you to our, ah, new six students. They will be Sorted and placed into their given houses, and I expect you_ all_ to greet them with open arms," There were a few unidentifiable faces Dippet glanced over at as he spoke. "Well, ah, that is all." Dippet discreetly mopped his face before allowing a professor to bring out the Sorting Hat once more. "Evans, Harry!"

Harry walked out in the open, and for a single instant had a face of extreme vulnerability before settling himself on the stool and pulling on the Hat. One minute passed. Then two. Harry's face darkened considerably. Another five minutes went by until the Hat opened its mouth and screamed, "SLYTHERIN!"

Ron cursed, and Draco began snickering. "Who'd have thought the icon of all things good and proper would end up my roommate? Hah!"

"Oh, shut up!" Hermione shot at him, her eyes never leaving Harry's furious and reddening face as he took a seat at the Slytherin table._ Didn't he say the Sorting Hat wanted to put him in Slytherin his first year?_ But her chance to voice this question was put to a halt as Dippet called out "Nymph, Ginevra!"

Ginny winced before hesitantly walking forward. She stopped, just as she was about to become visible to the Hall, whipped around, and asked, "Someone told Hermione about the thing, right?"

"What? Oh, yeah, Mione, you're Head Girl now. Dippet didn't even bother asking you or anyone, he heard about your scores and set it up within a heartbeat." Draco shot her a jealous look. Hermione gasped and started bouncing up and down in her wheelchair. "This is so great! I can totally make up for lost edu-" She stopped as a ripple of pain sliced through her chest, sending her doubling over and clutching at herself desperately. Ron, Draco, and Luna were at her side in an instant as Ginny walked onto the stage, sending a troubled glance back to Hermione before sitting on her stool.

Ginny set the Hat on her head, and immediately put on a poker face. Not a single hint of what was going on in her mind showed in her eyes, and her face was still expressionless as the Hat called out, "SLYTHERIN!"

Draco burst out laughing and wouldn't stop until Ron whacked him across the arm with all his might. "Wha-hey! It's _funny!_ The dream team has an undeniable dark side, am I not allowed to enjoy it!"

"I dunno, Draco, you might find yourself in a different house as well," Luna said absently, chewing at the ends of a lock of her hair. "We all might, really. We've all changed since we were first Sorted."

"Percival, Hermione!"

Hermione took a deep breath and began to push herself forward. It was an alien experience, sitting but moving forward by the push of her arms. She was convinced she could have walked the short distance to the stool, but Maggie didn't seem too sure. The distance was closing rapidly, and a sheen of cold sweat started to gather at the back of Hermione's neck. Ten feet. Five. That same panic that overcame her as McGonagall cast her spell started to trickle into Hermione's bloodstream, screaming to run and hide. But there were no monsters to face here. The only danger, evidently, was in her mind. She placed the Hat on her head, and a voice immediately started.

_Well, Ms. Granger, tampering with what should not be tampered with, are we?_

_Please just sort me._

_Oh, no, it's not that simple anymore. I can sense the dark magic in you. It's not likely you'll survive, I hope you know that._

_I do. But that doesn't mean I won't try to get a cure._

_Bah, you young and your determination to live. You would do fine in any house at this point, especially considering you probably won't live to the end of term._

_I will. I swear I will. I refuse to die without helping stop Voldemort._

_You've already helped plenty, dear. Where to put you...I suppose while it lasts, your intellect will do you great help._

_Ravenclaw?_

_Yes. But before I Sort you, I must advise-or better yet, implore-you to keep in mind that even the most bitter, most cruel, most hated of your enemies are malleable._

"RAVENCLAW!" Hermione hastily removed the Hat and wheeled over to an ocean of blue and bronze, met with a mild applause. She was just settling at the end of the table where a small lack of chair space had been removed, and was preparing for a very lonely dinner, when someone flopped down next to her and said in a bright, chirpy voice, "Hello! I'm Abigail Kingsley, but you can call me Abby. So you're a seventh year? Someone told me you're the Head Girl, so of course I had to check myself, I mean, after all, I _am_ a prefect, even though some people don't believe it, which personally is ridiculous to me, I mean, I got the badge and everything! It's so exciting, I hope I get picked again in sixth year and then maybe I'll be the Head Girl like you, if you are the Head Girl. You are, aren't you? You must be, I haven't heard about anyone else wanting to take the job, and thank goodness Melrose's parents made her leave. She was a nice girl and all, but not someone I can see as taking the opportunity seriously. Hey, what happened? Are your legs broken or something?"

A ringing began in Hermione's ears and grew to a full headache as the bubbly child spoke. She turned her head slightly to see brilliant blue eyes and a shock of strawberry blonde hair tied in a ponytail by a pale blue ribbon the exact shade of her eyes. The word 'schoolgirl' screamed in Hermione's mind. "Ah...yes, I believe I'm the Head Girl."

"That's _great!_ I must go tell my friends about this, excuse me..." At that she bounced up, hopped over the benches, and stumbled over, nearly knocking the head of a second year in the process. Abby immediately stood up straight, looked around, and walked away, smoothing her skirt as she did so, before stopping at the end of the Gryffindor and chatting with someone Hermione couldn't see. She turned back around to the front of the Hall, only to see Ron with the Hat dominating the upper half of his head. _Shoot!_ Hermione thought, scanning the tables for Luna. There she was, talking animatedly to a Gryffindor, who looked bemused and slightly awkward next to Luna's willowy figure. "HUFFLEPUFF!" echoed across the space, and Hermione immediately clasped a hand over her mouth to keep the half-choke, half-laugh from bouncing into the air, whipping around to see a red-eared Ronald Weas-Sampson stiffly walking to the Hufflepuff table. He ignored all his housemate's attempts to become acquainted.

Hermione took a napkin from the never-ending table, and murmured softly, "_Verbum scribe,"_ She pointed her wand at the napkin and began writing, the text appearing in a deep blue. _Ron? Hufflepuff? Is that even remotely possible? In what world could Ron be loyal and caring?_

She looked up quickly to see her five comrades jump slightly at the sudden appearance of a napkin in their hands. Draco quickly tucked his in his pocket, seeing as the Hat was Sorting him. There was a slight pause, but soon after a mild yellow ink began to swirl into vision. _Sarcasm not appreciated, Mione. How'd you do this? Never mind, you're in Ravenclaw; I suppose it's to be expected._

In crimson red, _Ron, you really shouldn't think of it as a bad thing. I spent an entire summer with a group of Hufflepuffs once, they're very kind._

_Shut it, Luna. You got into the best house!_

_Yeah, well you didn't get into the worst Ron! Slytherin, ugh, I can feel my skin crawling._

_Don't let Ferret hear you say that, he'll kill you and me both. I'm sure we'll get used to it, Harry, there's nothing to worry about._

Hermione was so absorbed in her friends' voiceless chatter she didn't notice a particular tan figure sit next to her and grab a vivid green apple. "Want some, Mione? One of these a day, and you'll be killing doctors with just your looks. Then again, you do that already, don't you?"

"_Draco!"_ Hermione wheezed, jumping a foot in the air and a foot away from Draco's face. "You're in Ravenclaw? _Why?_"

"I dunno, do I? Ask the bleeding hat, it's the one that stuck me here! Probably just another form of torture, now I'll have to babysit you."

"For your information, as the Head Girl, I will be in a separate dormitory."

"That doesn't change anything, does it? Luna says the Head Boy's a Slytherin, so as your housemate, I'm sort of stuck with you."

"Whatever," Hermione went back to focusing on the rapidly filling napkin, not paying attention to Draco as he began dumping things on both of their plates, grumbling with a smile in his eyes, "You denied you wanted my help, yet here I am making you a healthy, balanced meal, and I get no thanks?"

"I was just looking at this," Hermione said, deftly waving around her napkin. "and I'm really not that hungry. Honest." The mere sights of such foods were setting her stomach on an adventure of its own, a small rowboat lost in a vicious hurricane, being pulled at and whisked from place to place. The smells were only drowning the rowboat that had long since lost a bucket.

"Alright, well when you keel over, don't be pointing fingers at me."

"Sure thing, Ferret," Hermione sighed, twisting her hands into knots, then untwisting, then re-twisting them into an even more complicated pattern.

_Don't worry. Things will fall into place soon enough._ Hermione flinched. The voice was not her own. It was eerily familiar, but distant at the same time, as if it was shouted from a considerable distance.

_I'll see you in your dreams, Hermione Granger..._

**A/N:** So, there you have it! My first chapter in...ah...8 months? Trust me, I have no intentions of abandoning this fanfic. I'm truly sorry for the wait I've put you all through. But what do you think so far? It's not very good, but I'm going to keep on truckin'! :) Reviews are INSANELY appreciated!


End file.
